In Shadows He Hides
by Mutinous Phantom
Summary: AU. What would happen if Christine denied Raoul on the rooftop of the Opera House? What would have happened if Joseph hadn't died? A realistic interpretation of events. EC. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue: Denial

Hi everyone, I had this idea for a POTO story.

I have seen the play, read Leroux's book and watched the film, but I haven't read this other book that I didn't even know existed before checking out some of the stories on here.

This story is starts off on the roof of the Parisian opera house, where Raoul and Christine sing All I ask Of You, but the twist is, she chooses not to be with Raoul. This story will be an Erik/Christine pairing, but I must warn you, just because she has chosen not to be with Raoul does not mean she and the phantom will automatically be all lovey dovey.

So anyway, enjoy!

I am not a great fan of Raoul/Christine romances, as to me, it never really convinces and just seems like a teenage crush. I was surprised that so many people agreed with my views when I checked out the fan fiction on here for the first time. Please not that I will not be bashing Raoul in this story, I am better than that!

**HUGE IMPORTANT NOTE**: THE PHANTOM DID NOT KILL JOSEPH IN THIS STORY, BECAUSE IT MAKES IT TOO COMPLICATED! Explanations will be in the chapter.

Thoughts are in_ italics._

**Disclaimer**: Obviously, I own nothing.

This is my first POTO fic so be nice! Lol.

_**IN SHADOWS HE HIDES**_

**PROLOGUE **

**DENIAL**

He watched them, out of the corner of his eyes, his back flat against one of the many statues that adorned the outside of the Opera house that he runs. _Until recently_, he reminded himself, allowing the anger at the two new owners to boil inside him. In his opinion, you can not go from managing a junk business to managing the arts without help, or instructions in this case.

_How dare he touch her_? He thought, watching a man place a hand across her delicate cheek, only a few feet away from were he was standing.

"I can't Raoul." He heard her say, smirking at the confusion written across the young man's face.

"There is no need to fear him, I will not let him harm you." Raoul said, reaching across to touch the woman's long curls with his hand.

Again, he had to try and contain his anger and resentment towards the couple across the way. He was no fool, he knew that a woman like Christine would not choose him over her childhood sweetheart, however much he wished it wasn't so.

"No Raoul, I cannot do this." She said firmly, withdrawing from the Vicomte's touch.

"I am not afraid of him Raoul. He taught me to sing with the voice of an angel. He is with me all the time. I am not afraid." She said, raising her pale face to look directly into the man's blue eyes.

Erik was confused. Surely she would not say no to Raoul, her precious little Vicomte? He thought.

"Sounds like you are in love with your angel Christine." Raoul stated, sneering at the petit woman.

He watched the young man leave the rooftop, leaving Christine alone, pulling her scarlet cloak closer to her slim body for warmth.

He saw the tears fall down her porcelain cheeks, and he wanted nothing else but to wipe them away, but his anger and frustration prevented him.

Christine eyes were fixed on an object on the ground, carelessly placed there just moments before. The rose. His rose.

She bent over and gently picked up the blood red blossom from the snowy ground, slowly brining it to her nose, smelling its fine fragrance and tugging at the ebony ribbon tied around the stem.

She held a serene smile on her face, ignoring the snow falling steadily around her.

"Christine!" A voice exclaimed from the door. Both he and Christine turned to face the newcomer. That Giry ballet girl, he noted to himself, before turning back to Christine, making sure he could not be seen from behind the statue.

"What is this Raoul has been telling me?" The blonde said, walking up to Christine, giving her a confused look.

"Nothing Meg, nothing to worry over. Come, let us go inside before we freeze." Christine said, throwing a fleeting glance over her shoulder around the rooftop, searching for something.

His cobalt eyes studied every detail of her, yet he found no answers to the questions raging inside of him. Why deny the Vicomte? It made no sense, he made no assumption that it was him, it would not be good to let himself hope, something he had not done for a long time.

Meg Giry promptly took his angel's hand, guiding her towards the door.

"Everyone is talking about the attempted murder on Joseph, he seems to be enjoying the attention he is getting, unsurprisingly." Meg stated, holding a disgusted look on his face.

"Apparently someone tried to strangle him with a rope, according to him anyway. But he was drunk, as usual, so no one believes him. Probably more tales to frighten the chorus girls into bed with him." Meg said, laughing as the two friends reentered the Opera Populaire.

It was true that he had not killed Joseph, he needed not the attention it would bring him, a more cunning way was needed to put the managers in pace.

Sighing, he glanced over the carved stone walls and out to the city of Paris, thinking of Christine the entire time.

………………

I know it is short, but it's only a prologue. I usually make my chapters ten standard pages in word.

Please review, I am unsure whether I kept Erik in character, hopefully I did but if anyone has some pointers they will be warmly welcomed.

There will be Erik/Christine interaction in the next chapter, I promise, but do not expect fluff, not yet anyways. Bear with me, romance is the main theme of the story and I want it to be realistic, not a cliqued novel!

Dan.


	2. Chapter One: Masquerade

Here we are with another chapter, I felt inspired so I am writing it straight after posting my first one, but hey, I won't complain, hopefully neither will you, lol.

Can I just say, that I never imagined I would get such a response! I am grinning stupidly while writing this, lol, so thank you so much people! I have decided that Phantom of the Opera readers are the best, lol, this is the biggest response I have ever received for one chapter!

Also, I really want to read some good EC fan fiction, because I am hooked, lol. So if anyone can recommend me some of their favourites, or even their own stories I will be grateful!

This chapter switches from Christine POV, to Erik POV, but they will be separated so it will be clear.

And on we go…

**CHAPTER ONE**

**MASQUERADE **

Christine winced as the corset was pulled tighter, making it harder to breathe.

"I hate these things." She muttered to Meg, who was helping her dress for the Masquerade Ball that would take place in an hour.

"I know you do, but if you want to fit into your dress, you don't have much of a choice. I am done anyway." Meg replied, who was already dressed in her fine white gown, her long blonde hair tied elegantly at the base of her neck.

Muttering a thanks, the chorus girl come soprano diva, slipped herself into the many under skirts and petticoats that would fill out her beautiful pink gown she intended to wear tonight.

"Do you need help with your hair?" Meg asked, passing her the pink gown.

"No, thank you, I will leave it down." She answered, before pulling the silky fabric over her many under garments.

There were not many times she was able to dress like a proper lady, why would a mere chorus girl need to? She never felt inclined to wear the fine jewellery and the latest fashions, but tonight she decided to make an effort, for Meg who was so excited she could barely stand straight.

Pulling a comb through her long curls, Christine quickly grabbed the delicate mask that lay on her dressing table, the one that matched her dress.

She currently resided in the large dressing room that once belonged to Carlotta, who had supposedly returned to her home country to avoid the ridicule of her famous last performance at the Opera Populaire.

"Christine, there is someone waiting for you, may I send him in?" Meg asked suddenly, walking over towards the door, not waiting for an answer.

Part of her wished it was her angel, but she had not seen him for about three months. Not even for a lesson. There was complete silence in her head, not the usual soft tenor voice that would sing there in her dreams. She had even spent some of her spare time trying to open the mirror in the dressing room, running her delicate fingers along the ornate frame, without success.

Meg opened the door and left the room, giving Christine an encouraging look before she was out of sight. Sighing, she looked into the mirror that stood upon the dressing table.

She glanced at her reflection, disgusted with the dark rouge she had allowed Meg to paint across her lips. To her, they stood out horribly against her pale skin and dark hair. She decided to leave them though, no doubt Meg would be angry at her should she attempt to remove it.

Her head swivelled in unmasked hope as a man entered the dusky pink dressing room, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.

Raoul.

She felt guilty about the disappointment that rose through her. _Did I really expect him to use a door?_ She scorned herself.

"Raoul." She said, smiling slightly.

"Little Lotte." Raoul answered, giving her a grin that used to melt her heart.

She now realised that he still saw her as the little girl he once knew many years ago. She would always view him as childhood sweetheart, nothing more, and on some level, she knew it was the same for him.

"Would you do me the honour of being my partner for the ball tonight?" He said confidently, walking over to the mahogany dressing table she sat at.

Smiling wistfully, she stood and faced Raoul, who was wearing fine clothes of blue velvet and his blonds locks tied back.

"Raoul, no, we can't." She said sadly, hating the pained expression on his face.

"Why not? Don't you love me?" He said, his voice level rising.

"No I don't, not in a way you deserve. You will always have a special place inside my heart Raoul. As a sweetheart, a friend. But nothing more. You deserve someone who will be able to love you fully, unconditionally, and that woman is not me." She stated, raising her hand to his cheek.

He brought his hand up to stroke her hand. She felt no electricity in his touch, no thoughts of desire swarmed over her, she felt nothing, and this only confirmed her beliefs.

"I disagree, obviously, but I respect your opinion. I wouldn't know how would have explained all this to my parents anyway. Good bye Christine." He said, leaving the room, and maybe her life.

Feeling slightly insulted by the accusation she was not good enough for his parents, she gave herself the once over in the mirror, before leaving to find Meg in the corridor.

"So, how'd it go?" Her friend asked eagerly, as they headed in the direction of Madame Giry's room. They had decided to go to the ball together.

"Well, I turned him down, as you might have guessed." Christine said, noticing the small smile that entered Meg's face, but decided not to comment on it. "We were just not meant to be, childhood sweethearts maybe, but nothing more." She added, her shoes echoing along the hard wooden floor.

Meg nodded again, before guiltily turning towards Christine.

"Do you mind if I dance with him then?" She asked nonchalantly, fixing Christine with a hopeful look.

She felt a surge of jealousy well within her at the thought of Meg and Raoul dancing together, but had no idea of its basis. She had just rejected him, surely she would feel indifferent towards him dancing with other women.

"Christine, we're here." Meg said, deciding to drop the subject as they met Madame Giry outside her door.

She was dressed in a black kimono and had her hair tied in an elaborate Japanese hairstyle. She still wore a faint scowl, refusing to smile on such an occasion, not that Christine was surprised by this, the ballet instructor rarely smiled.

"Let us go dears." She said, leading the two girls to the main entrance hall, where the party was to be held.

The large hall looked as beautiful as ever, with its gold statues and fixtures and soft yellow walls. Christine quickly glanced around the room, looking at each dancing couple, each talking nobleman, in a search for someone she doubted would be there.

The Phantom.

She walked across the hall, long forgetting Meg and Madame Giry, briefly stopping to smile at Monsieur Firmin and André who both had giggling girls attached to their arms, both looking equally ridiculous in their elaborate headdresses and masks.

Sighing, she sat down on one of the gilded chairs that were set up against one wall.

She sat there for a few moments, wondering what was really under his mask, for he had moved his hand in the way, blocking the sight from her before she could see. Curiosity took over her, and once again found herself hoping that her mysterious angel would turn up tonight.

She saw something in the corner of her eye that immediately made her head face that direction, causing her curls to spill down her front.

A red rose lay there on the floor, unnoticed by the chattering crowds and dancing couples.

A red rose, with a black ribbon tied around the middle.

……………

He noticed Christine focusing on the rose he left on the floor, secretly pleased she understood the implications.

He had kept hidden himself for the last three months, not risking seeing her again, after all, she had denied her Vicomte in his name, no one, even him, could predict what her foolhardy ways would do next.

He was dressed in fine crimson party clothes, looking ever the gentlemen. His face was covered by a white mask, which for once would go unnoticed and considered somewhat normal.

Erik descended the stairs, grateful that not one person even looked at him.

He admitted to himself the fact he was considered normal was foreign to him. He usually drew stares wherever he let himself be noticed, but not tonight.

He carefully walked over to her, waiting for his angel to notice his presence. He was about two feet away when she finally looked up, straight into his blue eyes, recognition passing through her own hazel ones.

"Angel." She whispered, standing up and walking over to him.

"I see you finally discarded of that foolish boy." He sneered, referring to the scene he had watched earlier though the mirror.

Her gaze faltered, before nodding slightly.

"You won't harm him will you?" She asked innocently, fear striking deep within her eyes, something that did not go unnoticed by him.

"Why should I? You have already torn his heart into pieces, there is little more I could do." He commented nastily, almost enjoying the shock and sadness that washed over her face.

Erik did not feel at all guilty for using such harsh terms to her. He wanted answers. He had still not figured out what had caused her to leave her precious Raoul, and he wanted to know.

"Would you rather him be distraught in the future when he realised his own wife did not love him?" She replied, in an uncharacteristic cold tone.

He admitted he was surprised by the assertiveness of her answer, and was slightly happy that she did not love him.

"No, I would not." He admitted, more to himself than her, hoping he would give her the same sympathy when the time was right.

The dark haired man noticed the strange looks they were receiving and quickly drew her close to him, so they could dance among the couples, unnoticed.

He ignored the warmth she flooded him with when they was close, not wanting her to have any advantage over him, after all, everyone wanted to hurt him on some level.

He glanced over at the couple dancing next to them.

"How does it feel to know your precious Vicomte and best friend are currently dancing their blues away?" He whispered nastily in her ear, his lips grazing the soft flesh slightly.

Christine glanced over at the Giry girl and Raoul dancing next to them, no longer oblivious to them so near.

He noted she tensed with anger in his arms. _Odd_, he thought to himself, allowing a nasty smirk to enter his face.

"He got over you awfully quickly; you obviously didn't mean that much. Now do you believe you belong in the darkness?" He said huskily in her ear, knowing his words sounded cruel and unjust, but not particularly caring.

No one was caring towards him, so why should he be towards others?

_Because you love her_, a small voice nagged inside his mind, one that was squashed immediately.

Erik noticed the tears sliding her porcelain cheeks, tears that were starting to stain his jacket.

"No, I don't belong in the darkness, that's where you hide. I belong with someone who loves me, not scorns me." She said passionately, ripping herself from his grip.

He leaned into her once again, grabbing her hand to stop her from moving.

"No, you belong to me." He threatened to her, enjoying how her eyes turned wide with the implication of his statement.

"No, you monster! You truly are the Phantom of the opera!" She cried out, flinging herself from his grasp.

The whole hall turned silent, even the jolly music had ceased to play.

"Why so silent good monsieur's? Did you really think I had left you for good?" He scorned nastily, drawing his sword from the sheath placed on his side.

"You will perform my opera, Don Juan Triumphant." He said to the managers, who were close by, throwing the finished score at their feet.

"Miss Christine Daae will play the lead, and dear Piangi, will lose some weight, it is not healthy in a man of his age." He instructed, enjoying the fear sparked on so many faces.

"Enjoy your night." He said before disappearing in a flame, a trick he had performed many times in his days in Persia.

……………

Hmm, a bit shorter than I would have liked, but it will do.

Please review! I hope you enjoyed it.

Did I manage to keep Erik in character? I didn't want him to be loved up, and I hope that shows.

Until next time,

Dan.


	3. Chapter Two: Don Juan Truimphant

Hello people!

Thank you so much for all the reviews, I am shocked by how many this story is getting! 10 for one chapter, wow.

I would just like to point out I don't hate Raoul, I just think the love between him and Christine is not realistic or convincing, so I decided to do it my way, lol.

The large italic part is a flashback by the way, just in case you get confuddled.

And on we go!

**CHAPTER TWO**

**DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT **

He tightened his grip around he stout man's neck, hoping that he would be rendered unconscious quickly.

Eventually, deciding that he no longer had the time to fret around with the arrogant singer, Erik left the man lying backstage, before fixing his black mask and walking onto the stage himself, taking Piangi's place.

His anger with Christine had not subsided since their last meeting, it lay within him, ready to be used.

Dressed in fine black clothes and wearing an ebony mask that concealed most of his face, Erik began to sing the duet with Christine, smirking at the surprise across her face.

Suddenly, he drew the innocent girl to him, holding her body against his, his hands slowly travelling over her body, ignorant to the shocked faces of the crowd.

To his surprise, Christine did nothing but lull her head against his chest, oblivious also to the concept of decency.

Together they sang, similar by desire, similar by wanting what they could not have. The intimacy of the situation was foreign to him, for he had spent his life in the shadows, unaware of the pleasure such simple things like a fleeting touch to a wrist or a voice caressing him could cause.

Their semi-erotic performance seemed to captivate the audience, beady eyes were fixed upon the embracing couple, mouths wide open, not making a sound.

Erik doubted that any of them knew their true identity, except for maybe Madame Giry, wherever she was.

_He added to the pressure he had around the lasso, almost enjoying the knowledge that he now had so much power, one that only few dare to embrace. The power over life._

_The man's eyes bugged out of their sockets, widening in fear, clawing hopelessly with dirty hands over the stiff rope in an attempt to lessen it's deathly grip._

_The man slumped to the floor, a dead weight, eyes still wide open, hands still grabbing the rope around his neck._

_His own eyes widened with realisation of his crime under the bag he used to cover his deformities. The little slits he had cut open so he could see, showed little of the corpse in front of him._

_But it showed enough._

_He heard shouting at the entrance to the tent he was placed in, so the normal folk could laugh at him, scorn him and hate him, for he was daubed the Devil's child. _

_All because of a face._

_He quickly grabbed the monkey toy, his only toy from the ground and barely noted that he was being dragged out of the cage, probably to his death by angry gypsies._

_It was not until he had stopped under what seemed to be a wooden cart did he notice it was the girl from earlier. The girl who looked upon with sad, comforting eyes._

"_Come, we must hide you, follow me." She whispered in his ear, running over elegantly to a grate on wall, flush with the floor._

"_In here." She whispered, turning towards him, her dark, straight hair waving around as she did so._

_Without another consideration, he leapt into the small gap, barely hearing the grate cover his only escape._

_Without pausing, he ran into what seemed to be a chapel, pausing briefly to examine a candle that burned on its own, mourning a loved one. _

"_Forgive me Father." He whispered under his breath, as the girl, who named herself Antionette Giry dragged him further into darkness, away from his past._

Erik shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind.

He realised that his hand was placed on Christine's slim neck, feeling the vibrations in her throat as she sang the song he wrote for them.

_Would she stay so willingly in your arms if you revealed your past?_ A snide voice from the back of his mind called, teasing him almost.

Erik still had nightmares about the time he murdered the Romany. He could still never bring himself to feel sorry about his crime, no one ever felt sorry for him, so why should he for others?

_Because they were innocent_, the voice remarked again, making him remember his original plan.

He had rigged the chandelier, so that it shall fall from grace, fall away from the angels and create a fiery doom to the Opera house. An act of revenge for the countless years he had dwelt in hell, secretly yearning for heaven. He wanted the opera house and all those associated with it to feel his pain.

_Not anymore_, he decided suddenly. He did not need to kill to make himself feel better, his earlier experiences had taught him that. He felt a rush of relief enter him as he remembered Piangi was still alive.

The man did not deserve to die, though it would be a great deal of amusement for him to see Carlotta's reaction. Maybe they would take the threat of the Opera Ghost more literally then, however, he would be under the scrutiny of unwanted attention if that was the case.

He stepped up the iron wrought staircase, singing constantly in time with Christine, who was repeating the manoeuvre opposite, oblivious to where his thoughts dwelled.

The two met again at the top, embracing again, though he was not stupid enough to think it was her choice, it was all an act, an act to impress the audience. One that had worked extremely well.

Raoul de Chagny was sitting in a box, his box, staring at them with a stony expression, dressed in his fine clothes as usual. His brother sat by his side, looking thoroughly bored at the performance, obviously Raoul had not told him about his little affair with the russet haired singer who was currently residing in his arms.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime." He half sang, half whispered into Christine's ear, noticing her eyes widen at the familiar tune. He could almost see the scene with her precious Vicomte flash across her eyes, realisation hitting her as she noted he had been watching the entire time.

She suddenly pitched forward in a faint, causing him to brunt all of her weight, which was coincidentally, tiny.

_Ah, it got a little too much for her, she's probably died of shock knowing someone like you actually cares for her_, his cynical voice stated smugly.

Ignoring his internal battle, he lifted the brunette into his arms and walked down the stairs, as the two idiot managers who deemed them self worthy of messing into the arts fumbled onto the stage, apologising profusely to the audience and attempting to salvage the rest of the night's performance.

He entered the backstage area, nodding briefly to Madame Giry who was giving him a calculating look, as if seeing if his attentions to her surrogate daughter were honourable.

Obviously passing some kind of test, Madame Giry followed him to Christine's dressing room, Meg following behind, a look of intrigue displayed upon her face.

Erik suppressed the urge to instruct the two away from them, but he had feeling his anger would do little use, Madame Giry was not easily swayed, a trait that he grudgingly admitted, found admirable.

"Lay her on the chaise-lounge." Meg suggested as they entered the cerise dressing room that belonged to Christine.

Giving the girl and evil stare form under his mask, he walked over to the mirror, sliding it open, ignoring the astonished gasp from the ballet girl.

"I will take care of Christine, do not fear for her safety." He said in a cold tone, his cerulean eyes darting between the mother and daughter.

"Make no attempt to follow." He added, slamming the mirror shut, and brining Christine back down to his lair.

………………

_A hand slid down her arm, causing goose bumps to rise as it made its way along the path down her skin, grasping her hand, bringing it to soft lips…_

Christine awoke as the sound of music entered her sleeping place.

For a fleeting moment she thought she was back on stage, singing with the masked man, the man that had plagued her thoughts for a long time.

The Phantom.

She didn't even know his name, she didn't know if he even had a name!

_It's about time I found out_, she decided, realising that she was once again in his lair.

Pulling daintily at the chain that made the black, lacy veil rise, she rose from the red depths of the swan shaped bed and into the main area of the vast cavern.

He sat there, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, playing at his small organ, white mask back in place and bathed in candlelight.

It would have been somewhat romantic if he was not so cold hearted.

"What's your name?" She called out softly, fiddling with the red rose that had managed to stay in her hair.

He swivelled around in his chair, looking at her intensely with his aquamarine gaze.

"Why'd you ask?" He said in a low growl, creating a thick tension in the air.

Unperturbed by his harsh tone, she walked slowly over to where he sat, remembering vividly the last time this happened. It seemed so much longer than three months ago.

"Because I find it almost laughable that we end up in these somewhat erotic situations and I do not even know your name."

He turned back to his organ, playing another beautiful, yet haunting melody that seemed to be for her ears only.

"Erik."

She looked down at the man sitting a few feet in front of her.

The young girl had realised he was a man, albeit a very lonely and slightly erratic man, but a man none the less.

"Erik." She repeated softly the word sounding foreign on her tongue.

It seemed uncomfortable to call him by his first name, somehow a level of comradeship was required before she did so, one she doubted would ever exist.

"Do you have a surname? What was your father's surname?" She asked, her tongue running away form her.

The reaction within him was immediate and regrettable.

"Never mention him again." He said in a threatening tone, standing to his full height, glaring at her with hatred burned into his eyes.

She only nodded, casting him a frightened look when doing so, tearing her gaze from his angry blue orbs.

……………

Hmm, I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I hope it turned out alright.

(I have just corrected my mistakes today, which is the 24th, I didn't have chance last night, so I apologise for those who read the unedited version, thanks)

Please review!

Dan.


	4. Chapter Three: The Vicomte

Hey guys, I'm sorry I am getting this out fast, its just I was inspired and bored so…..

Thanks for the reviews:

This chapter takes place immediately after the last one.

And on we go, with a little surprise in this chapter….

**CHAPTER THREE**

**THE VICOMTE**

Squashing down her fear, Christine felt an explicit rage rise within her.

"How dare you treat me like this?" She asked quietly, looking at the floor, clenching her small hands at her side, unwilling to look at the man in front of her. The man who had evoked feelings in her since the fateful day they had first crossed paths.

She felt a finger on her chin, raising her delicate face to meet his half concealed enraged guise.

"You have to ask? Don't you think there is a reason why I live in this dank lair instead of outside? Do you assume for one minute that this is all about you?" He yelled, throwing a candle stick across the room, creating a large clanging sound that echoed around the cavern, removing his hand from her jaw.

"Of course there is a reason! I am aware of that, but you will not tell me that reason so do not get angry at me when I have no idea what memories I have provoked." She spat out viciously, satisfied in the recoil her phantom showed.

Silence passed between the odd pair, both of their chests heaving from attempting to catch their breath.

"You're right." He whispered eventually, keeping his azure eyes on the rough floor of the cavern.

Knowing that was the nearest to an apology she would receive, she nodded her head briefly, showing her acceptance.

"Take me back." She said softly, watching his head snap up in surprise.

The hurt in his eyes was almost enough for her to take back her words, to stay in this cavern for a while longer, hoping to crack through the ice that was set around his heart by years of abuse and neglect.

Her pride prevented her from doing so and she waited for Erik to obey or decline her request.

The brunette fixed her hazel eyes with his blue ones, faltering under his painful look. She attempted to gather her resolve and look as unaffected by his pain as possible, but she knew her eyes betrayed her real feelings.

Feelings of indecision and compassion.

"As you wish, mon ange." He stated, leave her alone by his small organ to ready the small wooden craft for their departure.

Christine was confused by his reluctant answer, she had almost expected him to shout at her, demanding her to be locked away from the world forever, with him.

She was more confused by her desire to actually fulfil his imaginary requests. _Maybe the spell of the angel has not worn off after all_, she mused, climbing into the small boat as he gave her an expectant look from the shore.

The trip was silent, with Christine gazing into the murky water, watching her pearly tears hit the glassy surface at regular intervals. Even she could not comprehend why she was crying, after all, her wish had been granted, she was returning to where she belonged.

She looked up to see that he was gazing at her with an intense look in his usually cold eyes, noticing her tears without comment, unfazed by her sadness.

She resented the tension between the two, the ever present silence that seemed to douse them in its unfriendly supremacy.

"Erik…" She gasped, looking up at the tall, standing figure, noticing he still wore only a shirt, partially opened and black trousers, encompassing his elegant form.

"I am sorry that I brought up your past, it was my idiocy and intrigue that ran away from me, please forgive me." She implored, searching his sapphire eyes for acceptance.

They few seconds their eyes met seemed an eternity, Erik stopped rowing the small boat for a second.

"Okay." He said, in a neutral tone, with no emotion or effort conveyed in his voice.

She understood that his small reply meant a lot more than it told at face value, but it did not stop the disappointment grow within her.

A couple of more tears fell out of her eyes, causing them to leave wet trails down her pastel cheeks, betraying her inner thoughts of a warm hearted answer from Erik.

A warm hand wiped them away, raising her face slightly so her eyes met with deep blue orbs, filled with desire and longing, barely contained.

Without another word, Erik continued to row the boat to shore, helping her out with a steady hand when they reached the rough stone steps of the Opera catacombs, which were slippery under foot with the slime and moisture of decade's worth of neglect.

The twosome started to ascend the limestone steps, with Christine wincing every time she made a large sound with her shoes, as it echoed across her dismal surroundings.

"Down here! There is no chance of us being discovered!" A voice called form the top of stairs, causing them both to stiffen with suprise.

Without warning, Erik dragged her behind one of the pillars that lined the walls of the endless staircases and alleyways, encircling his arms around her waist, pulling her as close to him as possible, so to be out of sight as their yet unseen intruders.

A blonde girl came into view, wearing a simple woollen dress, followed by none other that Raoul himself.

"That's Raoul, and Meg!" Christine exclaimed, louder than she intended. Erik clamped his hand over her mouth, preventing her from voicing the many profanities that were swimming around her head.

_Am I that easy to get over_? She thought, watching the odd pair embrace, Raoul bending down to capture her best friend's lips with his own.

The brunette closed her eyes in an effort to block all thought of Raoul and Meg from her mind. Strangely, she noticed Erik's breath quicken against her neck, as though containing anger similar to hers.

_Probably because they are in his lair, or near it_, she thought, suddenly disgusted by the man holding her, wondering if he held any sympathy for her feelings. _But then why would he? You don't show any sympathy for his_, she thought.

Struggling against his vice like grip, Christine ripped his hand from her mouth, ignoring his grunts of protests as she elbowed him in the stomach, fighting for her freedom. All she wanted was an explanation from her best friend, who knew of circumstances between her and Raoul, and why she would be uncomfortable with the two of them together.

_How long have they being hiding this affair?_ She wondered, doubling her efforts in resisting Erik, which even she knew were futile, but felt necessary none the less.

After a further five minutes, Christine gave up, and slumped back, sweaty and exhausted into Erik's arms, somewhat amazed that they had remained unnoticed by the Vicomte and his ballet girl.

_That's because they were busy doing other things Christine_, she reminded herself, feeling nauseous to the pit of her stomach.

She saw Meg give Raoul a tender smile, before the couple departed back up the stairs to the world above, where their feelings had to remain hidden from everyone.

…………………

Erik watched the two depart with his cobalt eyes, still managing to keep his anger retained.

She denied the Vicomte, proclaiming her supposed affection for her 'angel' and is now angry, maybe jealous that the man she doesn't desire is giving attention to another woman.

_It's not like you've done anything to make her feel all that welcome_, his snide voice in the back of his mind said, making him feel even angrier at himself.

"Come, let us return." Erik said, releasing her and walking calmly down the steps, back to the lake and the awaiting boat, to take them back to his lair, where the troubles of the above world could not reach them.

He was aware that she had not followed after a few moments, causing him to turn around.

She was standing there, tears falling down her cheeks, shaking.

Sighing, Erik walked back up to her, stopping only when a few centimetres kept them apart.

"I won't hurt you." He promised in a soft tone, hoping his sincerity was apparent in his voice.

"Oh Erik." She mumbled, falling into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably onto his shirt.

Slightly taken aback, he awkwardly pulled her close, trying his best to comfort her.

"I have to go back Erik, I can not stay here." She said, her voice muffled against his chest.

He knew Christine was strong enough to stand by her choice, but the rejection still felt raw and painful, like many things in his life.

He pulled away from her, not wanting to feel such a fake embrace, for he knew, she was only clinging to him because he was the only person around who could offer a small amount of comfort.

"Come, we must go." He said, heading up the stairs gracefully, without turning back to look at the angelic woman behind him.

They reached the mirror without a word between them, no looks, only the muffled sounds of their steps and breathing, echoing around the deserted underground levels of the Opera Populaire.

"Goodbye Christine." He muttered, opening the mirror for her, catching a glimpse of her dressing room beyond, before leaving as swiftly as possible.

"Goodbye." Christine's echoed reply replied, causing him to run faster away from her.

Back into the darkness, back into his depair and pitiless existence, away from Christine, alone.

……………

Urgh, to say I had trouble writing this would be an understatement.

I am sorry if you think its rubbish, but I had requests to show Erik's gentler side, which was really hard to do without him become all sappy.

I know it is short, but I thought I would save myself the pain of trying to make it longer, lol.

And to all those who think Christine's reaction to Raoul and Meg are weird, let me ask you how you would feel about your ex and best friend hooking up.

Not best pleased methinks.

Please review!

Until next time,

Dan.


	5. Chapter Four: The Soprano Strikes Back

Hello again, thanks for the reviews:

And onto the next chapter.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**THE SOPRANO STRIKES BACK**

Christine looked into the mirror, sighing as she prepared for the final night of Don Juan Triumphant.

Piangi had returned to his original role, and the Phantom had not made an appearance in public since the breathtaking opening night of his masterpiece. The brunette didn't know if she was thankful or upset that he had neglected to contact her.

She had also avoided Meg for the past two weeks, not wanting to say something she would later regret, yet she still knew that running was the cowardly way, and that she should just have to face up to her friend and demand an explanation.

Raoul had made attempts to see her, which baffled the petite soprano to no end, after all, hadn't he been the one in the embrace of his precious ballet girl?

Christine's fingernails dug into the small palm of her hand, drawing blood with the amount of pressure she unwillingly used.

Sighing, she smoothed out the crinkles in her ebony dress and fixed a red rose into her mass of curls. Finding herself presentable and ready, Christine headed out of the classy dressing room and into the backstage area of the opera, prepared for the final performance of Erik's beloved opera.

Don Juan Triumphant had become an instant success, selling out every night it was performed, though she noticed that the spectators were not as captivated as they were with the original performance. Most likely as it was exceedingly tough for her to pretend to be attracted to the obese, Spanish man who was playing Don Juan. Without the mutual attraction between Don Juan and her role, the opera seemed to lose its spark, though still good, it didn't hold the same ferocity as it once had.

The performance passed in a blur for Christine. She knew she was not performing to the best of her ability, but she felt as though there was a void in her life, that she was incomplete and therefore felt no inclination towards singing her best. Her angel wasn't there to hear her anymore.

The audience clapped politely at the end, however she knew that they were most likely unimpressed after hearing about the passion fuelled performance that was given on the opening night, and receiving a tedious, almost boring opera that was performed tonight.

Christine walked back to her dressing room in a daze, not caring to apologise to people she walked into, not bothering to reply to the friendly greetings sent her way.

She walked around the corner of a corridor in the endless maze that was the Opera Populaire, her shoes echoing loudly on the polished wooden floors.

Her door was in sight, she saw her hand move forward to grasp the knob, to return to her painful reminiscing, not thinking about her movement, it came to her naturally, as her mundane existence had the past fortnight.

"Christine?" A voice questioned, laying a hand across her bare forearm.

She woke out of her daze with a jolt and spun around to see the person who was calling her name. Her heart leapt to her throat, wanting the phantom to be standing there, for reasons unknown even to her.

Meg.

The blonde dancer was still in her outfit for Don Juan triumphant, the blacks and reds of her costume clashing vividly with her flaxen locks.

"Where in the world have you been hiding? You have been avoiding me." Meg stated, guiding her into the dressing room she was about to enter.

The dusky pink walls were vacant of any personal portraits, the wardrobes near empty and the dressers bare. The only sign that this room was in use was the small picture on the vanity of Christine and her father, taken just after her mother's funeral. Not the happiest picture, but it was all she had.

Christine noticed with a sudden surge of interest the red rose on her vanity, with the dainty black ribbon tied around the middle of the jade stem.

_He has been here_, she thought, gasping as she rushed past Meg and grasped the small blossom, smelling its sweet fragrance.

"Who's the admirer?" Meg questioned, joining her at the vanity, giving Christine a small smile.

"Not Raoul that's for sure." Christine spat, shooting the blonde girl a knowing glance.

If Christine hadn't already known about her best friend and the Viscount, Meg's expression what have told her what was happening without reasonable doubt.

"When was you going to tell me?" She asked, lowering herself into the stool in front of the vanity, gazing into the small mirror perched upon the wooden desk intently.

"It was all so sudden, and I didn't want you to be hurt, and it was scandalous for Raoul to be with a soprano, let alone a mere ballet girl! What would his family think?" Meg uttered, collapsing on the floor ungracefully, spilling out her worries to her best friend.

_So she's worried about the gossip?_ She thought to herself, wondering how to comfort her friend and show her views at the same time.

"Did you know what Raoul said to me when I refused him?" Christine rhetorically questioned, ripping her gaze away from the mirror to glance at her friend with concern in her hazel eyes.

Meg shook her head, her brown eyes looking at her with interest.

"He said he wouldn't have known how to explain our relationship to his parents." She answered her own question wistfully, wishing there was a way to comfort her friend. For they both knew that Raoul would be seen as a laughing stock to everyone if her married Meg, even if it was out of love. It was just not acceptable, it would ruin his reputation, a reputation he fought hard to maintain and would not jeopardise for anyone.

"I suppose I should end it before it gets to deep huh?" Meg asked tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes.

_What was Raoul thinking? Did he use Meg to make me jealous? Is he trying to hurt as many opera staff as possible?_ Questions flitted through Christine's troubled mind, bringing no answers with them.

"Oh Meg." Christine said, kneeling down on the floor to hug her friend who broke down into sobs. "Don't let it hurt you."

They held each other for a while, all things forgiven and as they should be. Eventually, Meg said something about finding Raoul and left the room, leaving Christine to her troubled thoughts.

She slipped out of her dressing room into the adjourning bedroom, comforted by its familiar presence. The walls were of a soft yellow, creating a relaxing mood for the room. The floor was of dark oak and upon it stood a double bed fitted with white sheets. Nothing elaborately fancy, but just enough for her needs.

Sighing, Christine pulled of her elaborate gown and pulled the crimson rose from her hair. She untied her corset, with great difficulty and smiled in relief over the freedom of her nightgown opposed to the torturous device that restricted her breathing.

She allowed all thoughts to disappear from her mind as she laid in-between the crisp sheets, basking in the warmth she found there. She closed her eyes, relishing the darkness she found, memories of the time with Erik in the bowels of the opera house flitting across her mind.

She felt soft lips press against hers, causing her to jolt back to reality. The brunette did not open her eyes, in fear of who she might see, but she relished in the touch of another, the restrained desire within her slowly resurfacing within her soul.

'Christine." A voice gasped, as the chaste kiss ended, causing her to open her eyes immediately.

Raoul.

His blue eyes bored into her chocolate ones, making her shift uncomfortably, tugging the sheets higher to cover her body.

"You expected someone else didn't you?" Raoul's suddenly said, climbing off the bed and staring at her, blonde locks obscuring his eyes.

Christine stared in horror at Raoul. To be honest to herself, she had expected, and a small part of her wanted the kiss to be from Erik. It made no sense now her thoughts dwelled on it, as she had abandoned Erik half a month ago, to a life in the dark, dingy underground lair that was his home. She had never realised how cruel and unjust it was until now.

"Raoul, you know where I stand on us, you know it can not be. And after your frolicking around with Meg I thought that you knew that too." Christine stated, moving out of the bed to step in front of Raoul, wrapping the cover sheet around her petite form.

Raoul's angry look intensified, before dissolving away into tears, falling down his cheeks.

"Oh Raoul, don't cry, some things are just not meant to be." Christine soothed, moving over and giving her childhood friend a warm hug.

"I know, I'm sorry about Meg, I do care for her, it's just…." He trailed off, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand.

After reassurances that their friendship would remain, Raoul left her bedroom again, making Christine go out and lock the dressing room behind her this time, so no more visitors could intrude her thoughts.

"Well, looks like you have feelings for him after all, mon ange." A bitter voice sneered from the opposite end of the room, causing Christine to swivel around.

Erik.

………………

He looked venomously at the young woman a few feet in front of him, a surprised look written across her angelic face, clinging a sheet to her small body with one hand.

"Erik?" Christine gasped, walking closer to him, causing his cobalt eyes to narrow dangerously.

"You just saw me turn Raoul away, I have been thinking about you for the past two weeks, my heart bleeds for you. I am at your mercy." Christine stated, falling to the ground at his feet, the sheet long forgotten, revealing the brunette to be wearing a lacy nightgown that flattered her trim curves.

Erik was speechless. There was a conflict inside of him, half of him wanting to draw Christine close and never let her go, the other half wanting to punish her for the pain she had inflicted on his already meagre existence.

"Give me on good reason to trust you." Erik snarled, raking a hand through his slicked back locks.

"This." She muttered, standing up to her full height, though he still towered over her.

Excruciatingly slowly, she tilted her head up and raised her lips to his.

He parted his lips in shock, allowing her sweet tongue to enter his mouth tentatively. He was totally struck with shock, he had dreamed of this kind of contact since he was a little boy, and due to his deformities, always thought that it would only be a delusion.

But it was real.

He did not respond, he didn't know how to. _I bet the Vicomte would do a better job than this_, he thought dryly, raising his hand shakily to touch her cheek.

That thought brought him back to this senses. Pushing his angel away from him, Erik attempted to regain composure.

"I will not touch the property of a viscount." Erik spat, allowing his bitterness to wash over him, its familiar presence soothing his erratic heart beat.

"Is that all you think of me Erik? Some whore to Raoul?" Christine snapped back, her profanities surprising him, and her, judging by the look on her face.

"Well, I am not a prize to be won. I am a person, just like you, and you have to learn to accept that." She declared, picking up the discarded sheet from the oak floors.

He watched her leave with guilt forming in his stomach, a feeling previously unknown to him.

The brunette suddenly rushed back into the room, jumping into his arms, giving him another desperate kiss on his swollen lips.

This time, he responded, giving into instinct, tasting the mouth that gave an angelic voice to the world.

"Goodnight, mon ange de la musique." She whispered against his lips, before departing to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Erik's mind swam with thoughts and desires as he stepped back into the mirror, to the awaiting darkness of his lair.

………………

I really like this chapter, so the kiss has finally arrived people. I hope I wrote it okay.

Please review!

Note, this will be the last update for about a week, sorry people, je alle en allemagne pour le vacances.

Sorry about the poor attempt at French there, lol.

Dan.


	6. Chapter Five: Of Darkness and Divas

Hello again!

Urgh, has everyone heard about the London bombs? My Dad works there and I'm worried about him, so take my mind of it, here's another chapter.

Thanks for the reviews:

**trisana**- Lol, thank you, here's your update.

**phantomfan1911**- Thank you, I'm glad you like it.

**light barrer**- Lol, I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for the review.

**Kagome1514**- Thanks, I will change it.

**ComputerFreak101**- Yes, Erik was an idiot, but I'm glad you thought it was in character. Lol, can't say I'm attracted to Gerard Butler, it would be kind of weird if I was, I am a guy after all, lol. Thanks for the review. I have the DVD, good isn't it?

**letthedreamdescend**- Yeah, I suppose you're right about the corset thing, though I really can not imagine anyone liking to wear them, so maybe. BTW, you're Disney story thing was so funny, I suggest everyone should read it if they haven't, I was pissing myself laughing, not literally of course, lol. Thanks for the review!

**XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX**- Thanks for the review.

**stormyrainedoncowgirl**- Thank you so much! Lol, I'm all embarrassed now.

**Blood of the Wolf**- I checked the convo between Meg and Christine and it made perfect sense to me, maybe you misunderstood it, no one else said anything was wrong with it. Hmm, I might rewrite it. Thank you, I will try and keep a wide vocabulary. Hmm, might waste a lot of ink printing it out each time as well, a good suggestion though. I do proofread, always. Thanks for the review.

I am guessing Erik must be in his late twenties early thirties, if following the movie plot line. I'm guessing he was around 10 when Madame Giry saved him, she must have least been 16. I'm assuming she had Meg when she was around 18, as people had children very young in those days, obviously as they died younger than us. In this story both Meg and Christine are 18 so that brings Erik's age to 30. You may disagree with this, but it is what I will be using for this story.

The name for this chapter must have changed for about fifty times, lol, I'll live with it though.

Anyways, on to the next chapter:

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**OF DARKNESS AND DIVAS**

"She's back! She's back! Carlotta has returned!" Someone shouted outside the cherry dressing room, causing Christine to drop the make up she was about to apply to her face.

The brunette glanced over at Meg, who was helping her dress for the performance later in the evening. The flaxen haired ballet girl glanced towards the door, making sure it was closed before turning back to her friend.

"Why, she has to be very brave, or foolish to return to this opera house after her last performance." Meg muttered, rummaging around in the drawers of the mahogany vanity table, searching for a hairbrush to comb Christine's dark locks.

Christine suppressed a smirk as she thought of Carlotta's performance for Il Muto. A part of her felt sorry for the diva's ruined career and embarrassment, but Carlotta's acidic tongue and egotistic manner did not allow the sentiments to run deep.

She quickly picked up the blusher from the wooden floorboards, before applying some to her high cheekbones, causing them to become even more prominent.

"I wonder what Monsieur's Firmin and Andre will think of her sudden entrance. They will surely not be as desperate as last time." Meg added, crying out in triumphant as she discovered the elusive hairbrush.

Nodding slightly, Christine took the brush that her fair-haired companion offered her and proceeded to brush the knots out of her chocolate curls, making sure she would look her best for the opera tonight.

It had been three weeks since the last performance of Don Juan Triumphant and they had been rehearsing Romeo and Juliet ever since, the managers wanting to return to the classics and not perform any new work for a while after the interesting spectacle that was the Phantom's work.

She had also become agitated by the absence of Erik, their last encounter haunting her dreams. His lips on hers, opened slightly in surprise of her bold actions.

"Best get this over with." Christine mumbled, leaving with Meg to the backstage area, ignoring the persistent buzz of happy chatter and the clanging of moving set pieces. Meg placed a reassuring hand on her arm before moving off to find her mother and the other ballet girls, leaving Christine alone.

"You will pay for this, little angel." Someone snarled at her, pushing past her aggressively, bringing her back from her wondering thoughts. The heavily accented voice was all too easy to recognise.

"Returned from the pond I see Carlotta." She retorted, eliciting a feeling of pleasure from within as the ex-diva stopped and turned to face her. The shocked, and partially gleeful faces of the crowd showed her that Carlotta was never truly liked, just tolerated.

The Spaniard lifted the skirts if her navy dress and walked purposefully back to Christine's small form, radiating an imitating presence and tangible fury.

The pleasure she received from taunting Carlotta was not matched by anything she had felt previously. Her frustrations, doubts and misery had all formulated on the tip of her tongue, spilling forth a harshness she had not possessed before.

"Excuse me, little chorus girl, I used to run this opera until you took my place with your precious little face." The auburn haired woman declared, cupping her cheek with her palm, digging her nails in painfully.

She recoiled from her grasp, bringing a soft hand to her now marked cheek.

"How does it feel knowing that a mere chorus girl can overtake the almighty Carlotta?" Christine mocked, laughing at the indignant look on the singer's face.

Carlotta created an unintelligible noise at the back of her throat, her sharp face red with fury, her bejewelled finger jabbing the air pointlessly. Obviously, no one had dared to speak to her in such a manner before.

With an animalistic cry, she stormed off, and supposedly out of the Opera house, leaving a crowd of cheering workers in her wake. Even Madame Giry, who had showed for the latter half of the exchange between Carlotta and Christine held a knowing smirk on her face, before ushering her gossiping students away.

"Come, let us prepare for the performance." A strong voice said from the crowd, causing a momentous uproar of moving bodies and exclamations on the little time they had left to prepare.

Sighing, the brunette turned and slumped onto a crate of chalk, intended for the ballet girl's shoes so they did not stick or mark the gleaming stage.

Most of the other workers gave her curious glances, some even congratulating her for her outburst, but she brushed them all off with a nod of her head and a small smile. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to feel guilty for the unnecessary cruelness she had just displayed, even if Carlotta deserved it.

_What would father think?_ She thought glumly to herself, standing up numbly as she was told to prepare for her entrance.

It was her second performance in recent weeks that seemed mechanical. She acted appropriately and sung adequately but she poured no passion, no energy into her act.

Her infamous last scene, dying next to a drugged Romeo was the only part of the whole performance that enraptured the audience, her own anguish flowed into Juliet's, her own desire for an end matching her character's. Her mind imagined it was Erik's lifeless body next to hers and that they were in the dark catacombs of the Opera House, together in death.

The applause was deafening. It seemed as if her last part seemed to excuse the rest of her performance. She did not smile, did not bow, just stood dejectedly, her eyes fixated on box five, almost gagging as she saw Raoul in the seat, watching her intently.

Feeling ill and at unease, she walked from the stage as the crimson curtain fell, heading swiftly to her dressing room, ignoring the praise sent her way.

She locked the door behind her, wanting to be alone, letting the crystal tears fall from her dark lashes. Some part of her knew that Raoul was on his way to see her, and part of her wanted to see him, to go with the safe match, to ignore her feelings. She knew he would make no hesitation in proposing if she asked him to do so. Yet if she did, she would be condemning herself to a life she did not want to lead, and betray Meg's feelings at the same time.

Sobbing uncontrollably, she collapsed onto the chaise lounge, seeking comfort in its velvet coverings.

………………

Erik had avoided Christine at all costs.

He had witnessed a kiss between her and the viscount, only to have her kiss him afterwards, twice, confirming her confused feelings for him, and that she was no longer afraid of the man in the white mask.

Sighing, he tied red silk cravat in its place on top of the ivory coloured shirt he wore. Slipping on an ebony vest and his favourite crimson lined cloak, he jumped into the boat on the shore of his lair and started his ascent to the world above, glad to be away from the consuming darkness.

Running a hand through his jet black hair, he wondered how he ever found the darkness so inviting, when all it did was emphasize his loneliness and imprisonment.

He reached the other side of the murky water, and proceeded quickly to leap out of the boat and navigate his way through the subterranean passages that had been his home for the most part of twenty years.

He proceeded to the mirror in Christine's dressing room, not opening it, his sapphire eyes scanning the room, to see a sobbing Christine spread out on the chaise lounge, her tears staining the seat's luxurious red a darker shade.

His heart leapt into his throat at the pain she was feeling, wondering what could cause such an innocent girl, barely an adult, such distress.

Erik was rooted to the spot, perversely fascinated by her anguish, feeling similar and connected to her through pain and tears.

He had not attended the opera tonight, fearing that seeing his angel play such a romantic role would not bode well for his jealousy. Part of him wanted to end the pain he was putting himself through by separating himself from her, but he needed to know that she would still hold out for him, that she would save herself for him and that she would still love him without him beside her.

It was a petty thought he knew, and an incredibly stupid thing to do, but it was the only way to assure himself she felt something deeper than their previous platonic relationship.

_Soon, my angel, very soon_, he thought, blowing a kiss through the glass that separated them.

Turning on his heel, Erik walked back to his darkness, and back to the plans he was creating…

…………………

No interaction this time I know. I was going to, but the chapters seemed to similar in content, always ending the same, so I thought I change would be good for all of us.

Please review, I am interested in your comments as always, please tell me where you think the story should go. I have a tentative idea, but you're my readers, so, what you want will be held in high esteem.

Thanks for reading ;)

Dan.


	7. Chapter Six: The Smooth Criminal

Hi guys, I'm back again. And I need to ask you a huge favour.

After a review I got, I am wondering whether I should boost the rating to M?

I mean, yeah, I would be able to produce a lot more darker themed chapters and add some deep sexual elements and whatnot but is that what you guys want? Let me know via review or email.

I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out, but my keyboard decided to die on me, and it took ages for me to resuscitate it. Stupid computer, I am sometimes tempted to throw it out the window. Lol.

Sorry people, I have to ask this:

Am I the only person on the planet who does not know what Inuyasha is? I have noticed lot of people are into it, is it a TV show or something? If anyone could tell me what it is I would be grateful.

Thanks for the reviews:

**letthedreamdescend**- Good point, I will avoid to say anything bad about corsets from now on. Lol. Thanks for the review.

**stormyrainedoncowgirl**- As you can see, the rating is being debated. And thank you, I am glad you like this. Thanks for the review.

**Kagome1514**- Thank you, and don't worry, I make up for the lack of interaction in this chapter.

**Lady Skywalker**- Thank you, yes he's fine, thank god. Maybe she does, but then Christine is very stupid, lol. Thanks for the review.

**trisana**- The end is too far away for even me to predict. So, lol, I can't tell you if Erik will be alone or with Christine. And thank you, I'm glad you like it, lol, the last part of your review made me laugh, and update, odd. Lol.

**Twinkle22**- Thank you very much, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Yes, the chapter is named after the Michael Jackson song, but I think the description fits Erik rather well. Also, the big italic section further down is a flashback.

And on we go…

**CHAPTER SIX**

**THE SMOOTH CRIMINAL**

In anger, Erik threw his ink bottle across the room, the black ink staining the roughly hewn rock walls.

Sighing in frustration, the dark hared man slumped back onto the gilded stool in front of his organ. Running his fingers along the smooth ivory keys, he tried to focus on the blank sheet of manuscript paper in front of him, willing a melody to float into his mind, but he had no inspiration within his soul, and hadn't done for a while, not since he had seen Christine sobbing in her dressing room.

_I wonder if she is suffering as much as I am_, he mused silently, punctuating the silence with his finger stabbing a key out of annoyance, its harmonious sound rebounding off the walls.

His plan on making her yearn for him had one major flaw, the flaw being not knowing if she still wanted him when he was cooped up in the cave he called his home, not being able to see how she was acting in her everyday life. He knew he could haunt the Opera again, eavesdropping on the ballet girls, following the beautiful girl from the rafters of the house, but he had no effort within to perform the task.

"I've had enough of this." He muttered to himself, standing up from his perch and grabbing his ebony cloak from its home on a nearby rock to throw over his shoulders.

Ensuring his mask was still in place, Erik readied his boat and prepared to visit Christine's dressing room, hoping she would be present. He travelled across the glossy lake, his cobalt eyes looking deep into its icy depths, wondering if anything lived within it, whilst resolutely plunging the small boat across the water.

Hopping off at the other side, the phantom traversed through the subterranean passages, not needing a light to pierce the ominous darkness, as the twists and turns of the tunnel were burned into his mind.

The mirror came to him all too soon, allowing him to look into the dressing room, its beauty tainted by the misty looking glass, allowing him a blurred vision of the elegant room.

Christine sat there at the vanity, looking blankly into the mirror, her hands dutifully undoing the plait that held her hair away from her delicate face.

From the way she was dressed, it was apparent she had returned from rehearsals and was preparing for the performance the following day, which once again, Erik would not attend. He had never been a great fan of Shakespeare and watching Christine playing such an angst filled role was not attracting to him at all.

Deftly, Erik slid the mirror open, wincing at the grinding noise it created.

Christine's head turned at the noise, facing his direction.

They stared at each other for a few moments, his aquamarine eyes boring into her chocolate ones. Pity flowed through him as soon as he noticed the dark rings under her eyes, her tired gaze and slumped posture.

_Why do you pity her?_ He asked himself, _she has never shown you any mercy! _

Ignoring his inner conflict, he stepped into the room, his tall form towering over the petite brunette who was still sitting on the gilded stool.

"I thought you were gone." She whispered eventually, her voice lacking the childhood innocence he had grown to love. Her speech had a dead tone to it, showing no emotion or personality.

"Well obviously you thought wrong." He said softly, attempting to keep the characteristic bitter edge out of his words.

"Come, I have something to show you." He said, holding out a gloved hand, hoping she would accept.

Christine's eyes lowered to the hand offered to her, slowly standing up, grasping it softly. Erik couldn't help but notice how small her hand was, fitting into his own snugly.

His blue eyes keenly surveyed her pale face, focusing on the slightly parted rosy lips, the flush that coloured her cheeks slightly, like drops of blood in milk.

Smirking, he led his angel down the twisting caverns to his lair.

…………………

She remembered the first time she walked down these steps with Erik, their joint voices vibrating around the corridors, their desire and excitement barely contained. It all seemed a whisper from the past now, one that she tried to repel away from her memory.

She nervously avoided his gaze, refusing to look into the deep azure eyes when he turned to look at her, yet out of the corner of her eyes, she could still see the satisfying smirk written across his features.

There was no passion between them now, no excitement, just fear and nervousness, on her part of course.

Fiddling with the lace hem on her woollen dress, the brunette remembered how she had yearned for him for the past few weeks, and now, all she wanted to do is escape him and run from his dank underground abode.

They crossed the lake in silence, there was no words that could portray her feelings anyway. She had berated herself for a long time for such an attachment towards the phantom, he had deceived her, manipulated her but she still couldn't hold these things against him.

She had already acknowledged the pity she felt for him, and the wanting to make his life less lonely, but did she want to be the person to do that? Give up her own freedom, her friends, her _life_, for a man who had left her for long periods time to her thoughts and her mindless existence within the Opera Populaire.

She wondered what it would be like if her father hadn't died. She wouldn't be performing in the Opera now, she would be unknown, unnoticed by Raoul, and not be the object of the Phantom's desire. Christine was frightened that she actually felt sad thinking about a life without Erik.

"Come."

The power in his voice was unnerving, a deep tone that left no room for argument. Dejectedly, she rose from the boat and stepped out of the vessel, ignoring the hand he held out for her, no wanting his aid.

_I am not that dependant on him,_ she mused to herself, ignoring his small chuckle at her actions.

Clearing her head, she followed Erik into the middle of the cavern, dropping herself into the seat that Erik motioned to. She waited for the tall man to take a seat opposite her, a look of indifference plastered onto her face.

"Erik, why have you brought me here?" She asked, her mind wandering back to a time she shared with Raoul, her words echoing around within her mind.

_Christine grabbed his slightly larger hands within hers using her full weight to drag the Vicomte up the stairs to the roof of the opera, her mind barely comprehending what she was doing, all she knew was that she and Raoul needed to talk._

"_Why have you brought me here?" Raoul had asked innocently in his tenor voice, squeezing her hand reassuringly, though it did nothing to calm her nerves._

_She didn't know what frightened her more: the fact she was giving up a chance for a life of luxury with her childhood sweetheart or that she was condemning herself to an eternity in darkness, with the infamous Phantom of the Opera as her only companion._

"_Can't go back there." She murmured to him, still dragging him up the endless staircases, barely acknowledging the other people on the stairways. The opera was in disarray after Carlotta had croaked during the performance of Il Muto, the laughter and gossip was echoing around the whole building, making Christine feel slightly sorry for the humiliated diva._

_Their bickering carried on for a few minutes until they reached the rooftop, the stars glistening above them._

_There is no going back now, she thought to herself facing Raoul._

Tearing herself away from her memories, she glanced over at Erik, who was sitting elegantly on the chaise lounge opposite her, back straight and posture stiff, as if he was born into a life of wealth and chivalry.

His sapphire orbs were scanning her hungrily, unreleased desire easily readable within his expression.

A part of her felt angry that the passion was building within her too, causing her breath to quicken and heart to accelerate at an alarming rate.

All pretence forgotten, Erik walked swiftly over to her, yanking her upright with a sharp pull to her wrist. Muffling a cry of pain, the brunette found herself encircled tightly with Erik's arms, causing her to wince at the ice cold grip which within he held her, so different to their warm embraces on stage .

"Come and see your future Christine." He whispered sinisterly in her ear, causing goose bumps to rise on her pale flesh.

_And just exactly does that entail?_ She thought to herself, secretly scared of the answer.

………………………

Hmm, the next chapter can be T or M its up to you, I admit I'm intrigued to go into darker stuff, but its up to my readers, so please send a review/email and tell me what you think!

Please review!

Dan.


	8. Chapter Seven: Pandora's Box

Yes, it is M, after some debate I thought, what the heck? I am kinda worried that people think I'm gonna have them jumping on each other every five minutes, lol, I would never ruin my story by doing that. I will just add some darker themes to the story, e.g. murder (described in slightly graphic detail), whores etc.

Sorry for the long wait!

Thanks for the reviews:

**ReahX25**- Thank you, I'm glad you like it, and don't worry there won't be any sex scenes for a while.

**Lady Skywalker**- Thanks, I hate those sappy stories too, well, I don't hate them if it is written but, well, I was inspired to write this story cause not many people did a realistic interpretation. I hope you're not feeling homicidal today, lol. Thanks for the review.

**Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey**- Thank you, I hope you are amazed in a good way….

**Computerfreak101**- °° I'm glad you will carry on to read this! But I still don't get that anime show thingy, I guess I will just have to let it slip, lol. I don't really like anime anyways.

**letthedreamdescend**- LOL. I definitely will not make Erik a virgin sex god, I think it's amusing when people do that, cause if you have never done it before the chances of you being good are very slim. Anyways, thanks for the review.

**helhathnofury**- Lol, I know, I guess us two will just be 'special' and not know the alluring qualities of that show. Lol, let's just Mr Butler is not my type, for example, he is the wrong gender mostly. I'm a guy, though a lot of people do assume I'm a girl which is rather worrying now I think about it…

**storyrainedoncowgirl**- I like Star Wars too, I fell asleep in Lord of the Rings though, way too long, lol. Thanks for the review and sorry about the delay.

**trisana**- Lol, Teen Titans? Whatever floats your boat…

Twinkle22- Sorry for the wait, I'm glad you like it.

**Blood of the Wolf**- Lol, no you're not, some people are absolotuely fanatic about it, luckily I am not one of them, lol. I only ever watched Pokemon I thought that was pretty crap.

**Kagome1514**- Lol, everyone has a perverted side don't worry. Thanks for the review.

Woah, a lot of reviews, lol, on with the story:

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**PANDORA'S BOX**

"I would rather dwell on the past than see my future." Christine answered after a few moments, trying to withdraw herself from the Phantom's icy grip.

She stubbornly refused to meet his gaze, knowing the fury that would be all too noticeable in his azure eyes. She knew it was foolish to attempt to resist him, but a part of her felt too secure in his arms for her complete comfort. The brunette was also painfully aware of his aroused state, and she was petrified of what he would do to alleviate it.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice my dear." He whispered in her ear, sending shivers running down her spine, causing her body to start trembling in fear, and more worriedly, anticipation.

She let herself be dragged form the main cave, knowing that any more attempts to resist would most likely cause her to be injured, whether by her futile attempts of escape or from Erik's anger. She gathered the courage to look into his eyes, letting an involuntary whimper pass her lips as she saw the unbound desire that resided there.

"Don't do this Erik." Christine pleaded, although a part of her suspected he was beyond reasoning.

Receiving no reply, she allowed the tears to freely fall from her eyes, sobbing quietly as they reached the beautiful swan bed on which she was positive her innocence would be taken from her.

She was thrown roughly on the bed, causing her long skirt to pool around her knees, revealing her pallid legs. Erik towered over her studying her anguished expression and hot tears. She hot not yet managed to stop trembling, something she was struggling to do, as she had a reason to believe her first time would hurt a lot more if she tried to resist it.

"Please Erik, not like this." Christine pleaded one last time, noticing the desire vanish from his eyes, causing her to sigh in relief.

She watched as his expression turned to form a scowl, his breathing becoming ragged as he looked over at her.

Without warning, Christine was pulled up from the bed, Erik's faces only inches away from hers.

"Why do you do this to me?" He bellowed at her, causing more tears to run down her face. She honestly couldn't remember a time when she was this scared, or Erik so enraged.

"Do you have any idea of what I could do to you?" He yelled, running a hand through his dark locks, his scowl turning into an anguished expression, as if he was also fighting tears.

The truth was, Christine did know what he could do to her, and it did not make her sleep any easier at night.

"I know perfectly well what you are capable of, but then, many people are capable of what you almost did." She said, placing a hand on Erik's shoulder, revelling in the soft feel of fabric under her palm.

"Not many people are capable of stopping themselves." She whispered in his ear, quickly placing a soft kiss on his exposed cheek, showing her relief and thanks in a way even Erik could understand.

She walked away from him, a part of her congratulating her on what she did, the other half wondering if it was not only Erik who was fighting their desire.

"You know I have never slept with a woman before." Erik confessed, slumping onto the bed.

Christine had no idea why she was surprised by this, even whores would probably cower away from his face, yet she was more disturbed to find she was content with this new knowledge.

"Nor have I been with man, but I would rather it be an expression of love and not a mandatory practice between man and wife." Christine said, sitting next to the dark haired man on the bed.

"Or rape." He added bluntly, causing her to wince slightly.

He looked over at her, giving her a small smile. The changes it made to his face were dramatic. It seemed a whole weight had been lifted from his shoulders, making him appear younger, and more vulnerable. To Christine, it felt good to know that even the Phantom of the Opera was human enough to smile.

"In that case I will wait until we are man and wife." He stated, leaving the room, leaving her swirling mind to comprehend what he had just said.

_Why did I just say that?_ He wondered, sitting down in front of the organ, his fingers idly skimming across the keys, playing a familiar melody.

_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…_

He pushed the song from his mind and tried to comprehend the situation he had just landed himself in.

He had just confessed that he was inexperienced sexually, a major wound to his ego and maybe a weakness she could use against him. _Not Christine, she is too innocent for that kind of tactic_, he mused, inwardly berating himself for his stupidity.

He had been denied the joys of flesh all his life, his face effectively repelling anyone who had been unlucky enough to come within a three feet radius of him.

He wanted to be human, he did not want to be a murderer, an enigma, a phantom, but society had always denied him of this simple want, claiming he was too horrific to join them, a devil's child.

Christine was his last chance for happiness, or any semblance of a normal life, or so he thought.

He was less concerned with his comment of intending to marry her; after all, she had seen the wedding gown he had purchased for her many months ago, and must have realised his purpose.

Erik did not want to seem weak in front of Christine, because then he would loose the grasp he had on her thoughts. He needed his most cunning attributes, his song and his strength for his plan to succeed.

"Erik?" A voice whispered in his ear, causing him to turn with a start, his hand automatically seizing the intruder's neck.

He immediately released his grip when his vision was filled with a petrified Christine. Neither said a word for a few minutes as she massaged her throat, all the while cursing himself for his paranoia.

"Erik, about earlier. Would you really have taken me by force?" She asked eventually, her voice sounding slightly husky.

He admitted he was tempted, but there was a confliction between him at the time he did not expect, one of doing what was right and what he wanted. He had never concerned himself with others before, or the consequences of his actions when in a blind rage.

"I think the question is did you want me to?" He answered eventually, determinedly avoiding the question as he pondered his own feelings regarding his actions earlier.

Her chocolate eyes fixed upon his, her eyes pleading for the truth. Erik found himself giving away under her persistent gaze.

"No I wouldn't have, not until we are man and wife." He answered confidently, enjoying her look of shock.

"Then you might have to wait a very long time." She answered coldly, obviously trying her best to appear unaffected by his words.

He leaned down to her, his lips a breath away from hers.

"You already belong to me, if not by law." He hissed, drawing away before he became too intoxicated by her smell, and before he was overcome with the desire to kiss her.

He painfully ignored his own wants, wants that were mostly situated just below his waistline, and left the main cavern to his room, shutting the door behind him. _Christine can take care of herself for a while_, he thought, approaching the coffin he used as a bed.

………………

_What is going on between us?_ Christine wondered as she sank to the floor, propping her back against a protruding stone.

They both knew of the chemistry that existed between them, even though she had tried to deny it on many occasions.

She sat there for a while, staring at the ripple reflections on the wall ahead of her, her ears only hearing the continuous gurgling of a natural spring that was in a cave nearby.

"What are we going to do Erik?" Christine wondered aloud, picking herself up from the floor, brushing away loose pebbles that had gotten tangled within her curls.

Sometimes, she speculated what her life would be like if she had chosen to go with Raoul and live her life as a Countess, but ultimately she was glad that she had realised her love for her childhood sweetheart was nothing more than a brotherly affection.

_I can't complain that my life is boring,_ she mused, allowing a smile to play across her lips, her mind thinking about the small grin she had received from her angel earlier.

As she walked to her bedroom, Christine noticed a small music box that lay on a small table, with a richly dressed monkey holding a pair of cymbals sitting on top of it.

Walking over to it, the russet haired singer turned the handle, her body calming on the sound of the sweet music that started to play, her mind dwelling back on her childhood, her life before the opera.

_Maybe nosing into Erik's possessions is not the wisest thing I can do_, she thought tiredly, before heading towards her bed and the sleep that beckoned her.

………………………

I have tried to add the darker elements without ruining the story, but I could still change this back to a T if you think it is necessary.

So, did I do bad? Please let me know via review/email.

Thanks for reading,

Dan.

**P.S**. Thanks to **trisana** who pointed out my mistake with the names Persephone and Pandora.


	9. Chapter Eight: And Chaos Ensues

Hello everyone! Thanks again for so many reviews:

**trisana**- Thanks for pointing that out, I did fix that. Well, Ms are supposed to be for 16's and over so I'm sure you are fine, don't worry, this is not gonna turn into full fledged porn, lol.

**Kagome1514**- Thank you :)

**Lady Skywalker**- Lol, they are stupid, but this chapter makes things between them … interesting.

**naomipoe**- Lol, well, I'm not sure that I'm a gentlemen, lol, that's a bit too far, but I swear there have got to be other guy writers out there somewhere.

**Twinkle22**- I'm glad you like it, but the stubbornness is gonna take some time to go, lol.

**angrypoetess**- Thanks for that, I went and changed it now. I'm glad you like the tension, it is so fun to write.

**Computerfreak101**- Eyes glued to the screen is a health hazard °…° Lol, thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the change.

**Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey**- Thank you :)

**Pertie**- I'm glad you like it, I think everyone likes a bit of heat though. Confession time: I'm a teenager lol, but I am a bad boy and read M all the time. Lol. Thanks for the review.

**Christine**- Thank you!

**stormyrainedoncowgirl**- Thank you, I'm glad they aren't confusing or anything.

**Blood of the Wolf**- I take it you didn't like me ending it so soon? Lol, thanks for the review.

And onto the next chapter…

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**AND CHAOS ENSUES**

Erik scowled at the brunette's sleeping form, but was secretly relishing in the slight fall and rise of her chest and the way her long curls lay haphazardly over the silk pillow, almost begging to be touched.

_Snap yourself out of it_, he admonished himself silently, walking closer to the swan bed he vaguely remembered carving.

He gently shook her sleeping body with his gloved hand, trying to be gentle but his impatience urging him to move faster.

"Wake up." He finally said, an icy edge to his voice. "We are leaving this place, and I am sure you do not want to be left to rot." He added, noticing smugly that she sat bolt upright.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did leave me here." She said, matching his hostility.

He noted the irony that he was the one she had learned to be hostile from, though he never expected she would use it on him.

"I have purchased some things for you to change into." Erik said, motioning to pile or wrapped packages stacked against one wall. "We will eat in ten minutes and leave immediately afterwards, if you are not ready, on your own head be it."

Without waiting for an answer, he abruptly left her room, and returned to his own.

In reality his bedroom was little more than a cave, the tunnel entrance disguised by one of the many mirrors in his abode. Persian rugs and tapestries adorned the floors and walls in a futile attempt to create a welcoming feeling. His coffin bed lay on a raised stand in the middle of the room. He felt strangely uncompelled to sleep in it the last few weeks, preferring to use a mattress on the floor.

_Maybe I did take the whole Phantom guise too far_, he mused, walking over to a carved wardrobe that housed his clothes.

The mahogany wood on the doors depicted a scene with a few women bowing down to an elephant with a Sultan perched on top, a monkey in turn standing on his shoulder. It reminded of his days in Persia, and ultimately reminded him never to trust too easily, wincing at the memory of his fall from grace in Persian society.

He opened the doors and pulled out two duffel bags he had prepared earlier, one for himself, mostly containing shirts, trousers, silk cravats and a few spare waistcoats. He had also stowed his black mask in the bag, just in case his usual white one was taken from his somehow, he had also put in his monkey music box in there, not wanting to leave it in the dank place he had lived in for far too long.

For Christine he had bought a spare set of corset and undergarments and three dresses, a light blue morning one and two evening ones, in forest green and scarlet respectively. He had also packed the wedding dress he had brought her, briefly dreaming of a time when Christine would don it willingly.

Ensuring he had left nothing of personal value to him, Erik left his room with the cases for the last time, careful to slide the mirror back in place and cover it with a curtain.

He saw Christine standing in her bedroom across the way, attempting to button up her dress without much success.

………………

_Thank God I already had my corset on underneath my costume_, Christine thought, looking over at the performance dress she had put on the chair, the dress she was wearing when Erik brought her back down into his lair.

Giving up on her dress, the brunette sat by the vanity and brushed her hair with a brush she had found in one of the packages that had been provided for her. Running it through her curls, she quickly tied her hair back in a long ponytail with a blue ribbon that matched the midnight blue of her dress.

The dress itself was a simple thing, a large run of navy blue velvet that had a simple ribbon sash around the middle that she had managed to tie. Christine had never liked wearing exquisite clothes, thinking that she was cheating by wearing them, for only wealthy people should wear such things, and she was definitely not wealthy.

"Here, let me." Erik said, who she had watched walk to her from the mirror but had not acknowledged.

He deftly finished tying her dress and handed her the blue cloak that was in one of the packages.

Without a word, Erik left the room, with her trailing behind, her stomach growling in hunger.

He led her towards a small wooden table set back in one of the caves adjacent to the main one with the lake. He had provided a small meal of ham, cheese and bread with some apples. Simple yet filling. Eating as much as she could, not knowing when she would next have an opportunity to eat, Christine finished her meal in relative silence, only cutting through it to request a drink of water, only to be given some wine.

_I guess Erik is not too fond of water_, she thought, taking a few sips of wine to quench her first, not trusting herself to drink the whole glass, she was not known for her ability to consume large amounts of alcohol.

"Come we must leave, we will be taking a carriage but you are required to carry your own luggage." Erik said as he finished the last bit of his ham. She had noticed with interest that he had eaten with much gusto, as if he had been starved for days previous. He took her small hand within his large one and led her towards the main cave, tilting his head so he could look at her.

"I don't have any…" Christine cut her words short as Erik handed a large duffel bag that was filled with clothes. _He must be richer than I thought_, she thought, looking at the elegance of the gowns, a red evening one in particular looked very expensive.

"Come." He said again, causing Christine to promptly heave the heavy bag onto her shoulders, pulling her hair in front of her beforehand. She once again took Erik's hands as he led her, not over the lake, but towards another tunnel she had not paid much attention to before.

Her insides squirmed at the thought of running away form all her friends, especially Meg, and the fact she was leaving the current production of Romeo and Juliet without a leading soprano. _Maybe Carlotta will come back_, she reflected, smiling slightly as she remembered the legendary 'toad' incident.

She barely paid attention to where they was heading, knowing that Erik would deliver them there safely. He knew the opera catacombs better than anyone, even with only one candle to pierce the oppressing darkness.

After ten minutes, the passageway started to slope into a steep ascent, causing them to slow slightly. The brunette had the impression that she was causing Erik to go slower than what was usual for him.

Eventually, moonlight streamed through the darkness from above them, promptly causing Erik to snuff the candle out between his fingers. He eventually climbed out of the tunnel through what appeared to be a sewage grate, helping her out afterwards.

In front of them stood a black carriage pulled by two slate grey horses, though a driver was nowhere in sight. Dropping her bag, Christine walked slowly over to the majestic horses, giving the nearest one a pat on its smooth coat.

"Get in the carriage Christine." Erik told her, leaving no room for argument and opening the door nearest to her. _As if I would try anyway_, she thought, clambering into the cab with a sigh, briefly admiring the red velvet interior.

Erik swiftly stowed their luggage on the seat opposite her, obviously intending to drive the carriage himself.

"Erik, wait." She called out of the window which was left open.

He stopped checking on the horses to look up at her, his white mask glowing eerily in the moonlight.

"Where are we going?" She asked simply as he climbed onto the driver's seat, and out of her view.

"Toulouse." Was the distant reply as the carriage lurched forward into the night.

…………………

Surprisingly, I had no trouble writing this at all, it just flowed from me, not that I am complaining.

Also, weird fact here: you cannot get a black horse, only a really dark grey, or so I have been told by a horse lover.

Please leave any comments via Review, or if you have any questions don't hesitate to email me.

Thanks for reading,

Dan.


	10. Chapter Nine: Dark Journeys

Hello again people, sorry for the wait, it was my birthday on the 16th! So, I've kinda been distracted but I'm back now. Thanks for the reviews:

**phantomfan1911**- Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

**Twinkle22**- Well, I think she finally got the point resisting him is kinda pointless. Thanks for the review.

**naomipoe**- Thank you!

**stormyrainedoncowgirl**- thank you!

**satinzevi89**- Is it that way around? I have no idea, lol, I'm not very eloquent about horses. Thanks for the review.

**Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey**- I'm glad you think they are realistic, thanks for the review. You'll have to wait and see.

**Kagome1514**- I do believe so, though probably not as what you are thinking. I don't find that cruel at all, I find it highly amusing, I will have to read that fic later.

**ComputerFreak101**- all in good time, all in good time, I'm glad you like it, and slightly concerned that you have radiation resistant eyes, lol.

**XoAnGeL-Of ThE-NiGhToX**- It is an eventual EC, but I wanted it to be more realistic than some you can read on here, so I had drawn it out a bit, thanks for reading, your obedient author, lol.

Right, it's time again for a vote, are you a boy or girl? I know it sounds kinda odd but I refuse to believe that I am the only male on the planet that likes the Phantom of the Opera. So if you want to take part leave a review and I will post the results in the next chapter.

Anyways, on we go…

**CHAPTER NINE**

**DARK JOURNEYS**

Christine sighed as she tried to get comfortable once more. Daylight now streamed through the carriage window, illuminating the interior in a rich glow.

They had been travelling for four days now, stopping late at night to rest, and starting their journey once again in the early hours of the morning, much to her chagrin.

She passed the time in the carriage by staring at the passing views, noticing how the dull greys of the city had turned into lush green fields, the leafless trees standing barren across the landscape. It was still bitterly cold, but Spring was on its way to rejuvenate the land once more.

Erik had driven the entire distance, not once complaining about witnessing the harsh winds of the winter months, not that she had expected him too, she believed he was most likely relishing in being in the open air, after years of confinement to the opera cellars.

Later that afternoon, the odd pair arrived in Toulouse, the brunette sat back and admired the city, admiring the elegant St. Sernin cathedral, its ancient stone giving off a feeling of awe. The river Garonne flowing widely through the majestic city, its glossy lake reflecting the winter sun, so different from the eerie water of the underground lake she was accustomed too.

To her surprise, they drove straight through the busy city, though she did not question Erik, she had a feeling he did not want to bring attention to themselves as he had speeded up ever so slightly as soon as they hit the streets of Toulouse.

She sat silently as they once again traversed through the countryside, the dusty roads effectively blocking her view of her surroundings.

Christine felt slightly hungry and realised it could be hours before she was to eat again. She felt the cab turn down into a narrow, jarring lane that seemed to be taking them further away from the city. They travelled for a few hours down similar winding lanes, the jarring giving her a small headache. Eventually they reached a slightly smoother path but the brunette grew concerned as her chocolate eyes managed to decipher a large building in front of them, its shape distorted by the dirt and dust the carriage was sending up.

After a further five minutes, a pair of iron wrought gates loomed in front of them, stopping their journey. Leaning out of the window as far as she could, Christine could see Erik's dark figure unlocking the gate with a large key.

Sighing, Christine once again eyed the building in front of them, now able to see the details of the house as they had stopped moving.

It was a large gothic styled manor house, with walls of a dark grey stone and statues lining the rooftop, which was tiled in slate. The gardens leading up to the house were carefully kept, but lacked any colour, most likely due to the season. The place held a lifeless aura, yet she could still see how Erik was attracted to a house such as this it held all the mystique and darkness that was he was known for.

She watched the gates being flung open, and Erik settle once again on the driver's seat, taking them slowly into the grounds, stopping once again briefly to shut and lock the gates behind them.

Christine drew her blue cloak around herself, hoping to find comfort within its silken folds. In reality, it was not too cold outside, as they were quite far south, but the unmistakable chill of fear had settled around her, the fear of the unknown.

She watched with trepidation as the carriage was driven around the side of the house into an empty stable. Christine noticed with interest that hay was scattered across the floor and in a mounted trough for the horses, suggesting that someone know of their arrival.

The brunette noticed, with a little irritation that Erik immediately started to care for the horses, unhooking them from the cab and taking each of the steel grey horses into separate stables, leaving her to clamber, rather ungracefully from the carriage without assistance.

Brushing the crinkles out of her midnight blue dress, Christine carefully approached Erik, who was giving water to the overworked horses. She noticed with interest that he seemed to be good with horses, though she had no idea where he had learned his skills from, apart from Cesar she doubted that he had been privileged to have much contact with the useful animals.

"Is this where we will be staying for the night?" Christine asked, wishing that he would answer in the negative.

His blue-green eyes looked up from their work and studied her brown ones.

"No." He answered simply, loosening the cravat around his neck slightly.

Christine felt happiness well within her, knowing that she would not have to sleep in such a dead space.

"This is my house, we will be staying here indefinitely."

The brunette sighed, knowing that she shouldn't have got her hopes up, the last few months had taught her that things rarely went the way she wanted them to.

Erik gave her a calculating glance before swiftly leaving the horses, motioning with his gloved hand for her to follow him.

Walking away from the stables, the pair walked to the front of the house, its great oak doors barring them from entry. Christine severely wished that Erik did not have a key, but knew that he would have not travelled all this way to wait on the doorstep.

Erik pulled a bronze key from a pocket in the lining of his coat, and without comment, proceeded to unlock the door and walk inside.

Christine followed tentatively after him, slightly awe struck by the magnificent entrance hall that lay in front of them. She heard the soft click of the door behind her, and the turning of the key, but she was too entranced by her surroundings to take much notice.

The floor was tiled in white marble, gleaming spotlessly in the little light that entered the cracks between the drawn curtains, which were of a luxurious jade velvet. The walls were painted a mint green, lighting up the large room quite effectively, with portraits of men and women lining the walls. In front of her was a marble staircase, that had a train of green carpet running down the middle. The ceiling, which was high above them was a creamy colour, with wooden beams criss-crossing across its surface.

The room was barren of furniture save for a few chairs and a grandfather clock on the wall to the right, beside an oak door. Yet the place still held a desolate feeling, as if the house had known unimaginable sadness.

"Erik, it's beautiful." She whispered, barely trusting herself to speak. The brunette looked over to find the tall man staring at her, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes which were currently staring at her, waiting for her to finish her inspection.

Nodding at her approval, Erik stalked over to the door she had noticed earlier, drawing it open to reveal a large dining room. Christine barely had time to admire its dusty pink décor and mahogany table before she was whisked off into a door on her left. They entered a pale yellow kitchen, also spotless with a small table in the centre that was laden with dishes, delicious aromas coming forth from them.

Slightly dazed, she lowered herself into the simple wooden chair that Erik offered to her.

………………………

Erik sat himself opposite Christine, removing his cloak as he did so. The kitchen was warm, slightly too warm for his liking.

Without looking at the girl sitting with him, Erik uncovered the dish nearest to him, inspecting the contents, which turned out to be chicken in a dijonaise sauce. He divided each of the dishes into the two and piled the delicious food onto two separate plates, handing one to Christine, he promptly began to eat, wondering how long ago it was when he had eaten such a large meal.

"How did this food get here?" Christine asked after a few minutes, causing Erik to stop eating for a few moments.

"The cook." He answered simply, carrying on in earnest. He had rarely found much pleasure in food, but for once he had an appetite and he planned on abusing it while he could.

He had brought Christine to the house he had bought many months ago. He had hired some outcasts from the nearby city to work for him. His cook was actually a whore once, his gardener a homosexual and the two maids were once gypsies, their coloured skin preventing them from being fully accepted in the world. Though he would never admit it, Erik felt connected to these people through their common inability to walk the streets without scorn. He wanted to help these people live a fairly normal life.

Just like how he wanted Christine to help him live normally.

One glance at the ex-soprano told him she desired to ask many questions, but wisely, she carried on eating as if she had not a care in the world.

"And where is this cook?" Christine asked just as he finished his last bite.

"In the Servants quarters, with the rest of the staff." Erik stated calmly, taking a sip from the wine that was served with the food.

He felt surprisingly calm and content, his plan had worked out exactly as he wanted.

"Come, I will show you to your room." He said politely as Christine finished eating, she nodded slightly, looking fatigued.

Erik took Christine's hand within his own larger one and walked back out through the dining room and into the entrance hall. Without comment he led the beautiful brunette up the stairs and turned down into a corridor on the left.

He did not stop until he reached the very end room, which he opened and motioned for Christine to enter.

The room itself was decorated in red and white, and held a large four poster bed in the middle dressed in red silk sheets and white linen curtains.

Erik had bought the house and had paid for it to be restored to its original splendour. He noticed that Tom, the gardener and acting stable aid had brought the luggage into this room and had deposited it on the bed.

"The bathroom is in there." He said, pointing to a door at the opposite end of the room, "Goodnight." Nodding at Christine, he left her room with his luggage, deciding that some rest after the travelling would be wise.

…………………

Slightly disgruntled at the lack of interest Erik had displayed that evening, Christine wondered into her bathroom with a heavy heart, not realising the source of all her woes.

The bathroom itself was tiled with the same beautiful marble that was in the entrance hall. A porcelain bath tub was situated along the window wall, which at the moment was covered in a gauzy fabric that let light in but kept unwanted attention away.

She smiled as she noticed the white nightgown that had been left out for her. She drew herself a bath with the indoor plumbing that was fairly new, she had never had the opulence before that was for certain.

Noticing a jar of rose petals on the windowsill, Christine deposited a clump of the sweet smelling petals into the water, basking in the luxury she was about to witness.

Shedding herself of her dress and underskirts, Christine awkwardly managed to undo her corset, pausing briefly in her arduous task to stop the water from overflowing. Once free of clothing, Christine sank into the hot water of the bath, sighing audibly as it soothed her skin.

She spent entirely too long in the bath to be considered usual, but she felt the need to pamper herself over the journey, and her concern with Erik, who had become even more distant, if that was possible.

_But why do I care? He has dragged me from my home to live with him in the middle of nowhere! Shouldn't I be angry?_ She mused whilst washing her hair.

She had come to realise that she needed to get away from her life in Paris, even if it meant being kept from friends like Madame and Giry and Meg. Her ascent into the spotlight had left her without much time for herself, and she was starting to crack under the pressure of being the lead soprano. But the time with Erik felt like a blissful release from reality, and that was why she was not angry at all, maybe even slightly thankful towards him.

Abandoning her thoughts, she dried herself quickly and climbed into the nightgown, her damp curls flowing free down her back. She placed her folded clothes where she had discovered her nightwear, wondering if someone would come and wash them.

Yawning, Christine returned to the main room and sank gratefully onto the bed, drawing the covers around her tired form.

"Goodnight, mon ange." She whispered before falling into a peaceful slumber.

……………………

Christine winced as a harsh beam of light hit her eyes, waking her from her pleasant sleep.

Yawning, she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Good morning miss." A cheerful voice said, causing her to jump rather ungracefully, for she had not noticed anyone else was in the room.

Christine eyed her invader rather curiously. The woman had skin of a dark cinnamon colour and sleek black hair that was tied back sharply on her head, resting in a bun. She was wearing a simple plain black woollen dress with a white apron covering her front, suggesting she was a maid of some sort.

Realising she was staring, Christine smiled slightly and climbed out of bed fully, starting to make her bed to hide her flushed cheeks. She knew it was rude to stare, yet she had never seen a person with such dark skin.

"No miss, please, that is my job." The woman stopped her, motioning to a table near the window on the opposite wall that held a breakfast tray with tea, toast and a bowl of porridge. "Please have your breakfast miss, and then I will help you dress for the day."

Too tired to argue, Christine shuffled over to the table and dropped down into a gilded chair, immediately starting to eat the porridge. She ate as much as she could, for she had learned that you should always eat what you were given, for you never knew when you were going to eat next. She had learned this when travelling with her father, but she had a sinking suspicion the advice would do her well in her current situation.

"I am Christine." She said eventually to the maid who was standing by the door, waiting to be of use.

The woman smiled warmly, one which Christine found easy to return. "And I am Gabrielle." The woman answered, walking over to her when she had seen the empty dishes.

"Thank you." She muttered as Gabrielle took the heavy tray and presumably headed for the kitchen, mentioning she would be back soon to help her dress.

"Maybe life here won't be so bad after all." The brunette said to herself as she walked over to her closet to choose the outfit for the day.

………………

Wow, this chapter is really long, for my standards. I double checked that they had indoor plumbing back then, it was new but it existed and did you know soap did not come in until 1882? Hmm. I hope Erik was not out of character but everyone has a soft spot of some kind, maybe Erik's compassion for people in situations like his is his own? Well, I am allowed some artistic license, lol.

Please review, and also answer my question, boy/girl? I refuse to see I am the only guy!

More Erik/Christine action next time, I promise.

Until next time,

M.P


	11. Chapter Ten: The Phantom's Secrets

Hey everyone :) Okay, so everyone is a girl, I am slightly put out but hey, I like to be different, lol.

Anyways, I start college in about 10 days so I will not have a great deal of time to update but I will try my hardest! I never leave a story unfinished.

Review responses are at the end this time.

**CHAPTER TEN**

**THE PHANTOM'S SECRETS**

Christine sighed in boredom as she slammed the book she was attempting to read shut.

The brunette had lived in the manor house for a week, and after the first few days of exploring and appreciating the fine décor, life had become rather mundane. She had tried to entertain herself in the library, where she was currently residing, but found she couldn't take in any of the words and it did little to stimulate her.

Erik had left her alone since she had arrived at the unfeeling manor. She had caught brief glimpses of her former tutor when on her mindless wanderings of the grounds, but not a word was exchanged between them, and it pained her to admit she missed his company. She had no idea why he refused to acknowledge her but she had a feeling that the answer would present itself soon.

Christine absently fingered the fabric of her red silk overdress, the deep crimson colour clashing with the shade of her hair. She had been cared for excellently while she had been at the house, magnificent clothes had been provided, the food was exquisite and she had found a friend in her maid, Gabrielle. Yet her life had an awkward emptiness to it, without music to inspire her or Erik to tempt her she felt very bored.

The library itself was decorated in a warm yellow that seemed so unlike Erik, whose darkness had tainted several rooms of the house, most noticeable the navy blue music room she had seen in passing. There was a main white marble fireplace on one wall and the large windows were adorned with golden curtains of many fabrics, all sewn together in an elegant style. The bookshelves were white in colour, adding to the light feeling of the room and the polished dark wood floor was covered in a large yellow and gold rug that was extremely comfortable underfoot. Yet Christine was most attracted to the handsome dark leather bindings of the all the books. She had never had much time to read before, and the luxury of being able to do so was not missed on her.

"Mademoiselle?" A voice questioned at the doorway of the library, disrupting her inspection of the room.

Christine rose from the armchair she was resting in to greet Gabrielle at the door.

Gabrielle was wearing her hair in a plait that day, the rope like style falling to her waist. She was wearing a long black dress with a brown corset with intricate embroidery decorating it, over the top of a white shirt. The dark coloured woman had explained it was a gypsy custom.

"Master wishes to speak with you in his study." She eventually said, dipping into a curtsey before leaving her alone.

Briefly wondering what she was wanted for, the brunette left the room at a brisk pace, turning a right down a plain corridor and turning into a doorway on the left. She had never been allowed in the study, as Gabrielle had told her on her first day in the house. This time, she had refused her curiosity the chance to see within the room, remembering the times she had had gone against the Phantom's wishes in the past.

She knocked on the door, ignoring the trembling in her hand or the butterflies in her stomach. She had prided herself on growing out of her childhood, as recent events at demanded, but at times like this she felt like the naive girl she once was, and not an accomplish soprano who had almost been engaged to one of the most desirable bachelor's in Paris.

"Enter." The all too familiar hoarse voice directed from the other side of the door.

With a little trepidation, Christine opened the door, and immediately gasped at the beauty of the room. Dark mahogany bookshelves lined both walls on her left and right, filled with many books that were obviously a part of Erik's private collection. A desk stood proudly about five feet in front of her, a large window consumed the wall opposite her, though the view had been blocked by a mass of rich red and black curtains that matched the painted walls and dark carpet. Erik was sitting at the desk, wearing his usual ensemble of white shirt, black trousers, a coloured cravat and black waistcoat. The cravat was a deep plum colour and was tied elegantly at the base of his throat. The white mask was, as always, placed over the deformed side of his face, the blue-green eyes staring at her over its leather folds.

"You wanted me?" Christine asked lightly, entering the room and shutting the door behind her, determined to keep her cool during this impromptu meeting.

"Yes, please take a seat." Erik answered, gesturing at the gilded wooden chair in front of the carved desk.

Dutifully, Christine sat down, her back straight and her gaze trained on the curtains behind Erik. She would not show any weakness in front of him, even though her breathing had become slightly more haggard since entering the room, though she could not understand why.

"There are some things we need to discuss." Erik intoned, causing her eyes to meet his, a small prickling of fear stirring within her.

………………

Erik looked longingly at the beauty in front of him, the way her scarlet dress clung to her body, showing her full figure, and petite frame to its full extent. Her soft curls were pulled away by a red ribbon at the back of her head, the delicate waves flowing down her back.

Her chocolate eyes were now trained directly on his own aquamarine ones, showing only slight traces of fear, which was masked by her determination to show no weakness in front of him.

_She thinks she can hide from me? How amusing_, he thought mildly, finishing writing the letter he was drafting when she had entered the room.

"Are you happy here?" Erik blurted out, admonishing his words as soon as they had escaped his mouth. He had planned to act indifferent and unfeeling but the sadness she displayed in the chocolate depths of her eyes unnerved him.

Christine looked surprised for a second, but then regained her own mask of indifference.

"I am well cared for." She answered evasively, her lips pursing as if she was in deep thought.

"That was not what I asked." He retorted, failing to keep the impatience out of his voice. It was not often he showed his true caring towards the girl, the least she could do was answer him properly.

"Let's see, I am bored out of my mind, my music has been denied from me, as has my whole life and to enhance on my melancholy, you have ignored my presence for a whole week, so no, I am not happy." Christine shouted angrily, her outburst taking him by surprise. She had never been one to shout, but he had a suspicion he brought out the worse in her.

"I see, well in that case I have some good news." Erik said, fighting to regain the upper hand of the situation.

Christine looked at him with interest, imploring him to continue with her attentive gaze.

"I propose we continue our lessons in your voice. It has no doubt become rusty and I find myself missing your company as of late." Erik confessed, unabashed by his desire for her presence.

He searched her eyes for her answer, and was somewhat pleased to find a small smile on her face.

"I would love that Erik." Christine breathed, the dreamy smile still intact, causing his own lips to quirk up slightly.

"I am currently designing some buildings for someone in the city and therefore I will only be able to manage lessons during the evening, preferably after dinner." He said, standing up briskly, the letter he had written in hand.

He had managed to find some work designing hotels for a rich builder in the nearby city, and he secretly relished the work and his ability to share his ideas with the world, if only in a small way. His work was completed through post, where he would send many designs to one Monsieur Deriuex who would then pick out the ones he desired and send the rest back, with the payment for the ones he had kept. Occasionally designs would be sent back to work on, with instructions on what was needed, though he did not mind his work being critiqued, few had held the courage within them to review his work before and he was secretly pleased that there was one less person afraid of him in the world. He had met with Jacques, the builder, a few times. Jacques had been injured in battle somewhere in the Far East and was missing a leg, and his face was badly scarred from a long dead fire. Erik felt connected with the man through their equally distorted visages, though he would not remove his mask in his presence.

"I must leave for business mon ange, I will dine with you later this evening. Good day." Erik muttered, pulling on his cloak and guiding Christine out of his study, finding comfort in being so close to the woman he loved.

And will one day be his.

……………………

Not as long as last time I know, but I really like this chapter, you learn more about Erik and there was a little romantic tension between Monsieur le fantome and our leading lady.

Any comments/critiques/questions can be given through review/email. I won't be offended if you find something amiss.

Thanks for the reviews:

**Twinkle22**- I'm glad you like Erik's soft side, lol, everyone has one. Thanks for the review.

**Kagome1514**- I hope you got my review, it's a great story! I'm glad you thin Erik was in character. Thanks for the review.

**satinzei89**- I'm glad there are other guys who appreciate the music :) Thanks.

**trisana**- I'm glad you like my descriptions, I hope you like the ones in this chapter also.

**stormyrainedoncowgirl**- Thank you!

**naomipoe**- No I am straight, but I don't really understand your reasoning, why can't straight men be good at describing things? Thanks for the review, sorry its not as long this time.

**LadySkywalker**- I hope university is going well :) I'm not gonna be offended that you think I was a girl, now I think about this story isn't very masculine, maybe I should add a sword fight or two, lol. Thanks for the review.

**Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey**- Thank you :) I'm glad you like it.

**Blood of the Wolf**- I'm glad you loved it, thanks for the review.

**lady summoner2**- Lol, thanks, yeah I do like musicals, I guess it comes from playing instruments myself. I know a lot of guys who like the phantom musical though…

**Stephanie**- I know, that was pretty disgusting, lol. Thanks for the review! BTW, I was referring to myself when I said obedient author, like I was signing the response, guess I didn't make it that clear, sorry!

**Computerfreak101**- You have been reviewing this story from the start! I have never thanked you for this before, but I will now! You're the best :) I'm 16 now. Yeah I'm always on the comp too, kinda bad I know. Thanks for the review.

Until next time then,

M.P


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Dancer's Interlude

Hey people! I am back with another update, now I detest filler chapters, but I think we all need to know a few things, that will be told in this chapter, most importantly what is happening within our beloved Opera House.

In this story Meg is 17 and Raoul is 20, just so you know.

It is told within Meg's point of view, now Meg is my favourite character, so I had loads of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy it too!

Review responses are at the end of the chapter.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**THE DANCER'S INTERLUDE**

The blonde smiled wistfully at the polite applause she received. In her heart she knew that her voice did not even compare to Christine's, but now that her friend had disappeared there was no one to take over her roles, with Carlotta in disgrace and the other singers afraid of taking the parts due to the infamous opera ghost, Meg was the only one who would sing.

She did not feel at peace with herself when singing, she battled to keep her nerves at bay and her voice steady, though she had improved after each performance. Dancing was her expertise, and both she and the audience knew it. However they appreciated her and applauded her for her efforts and courage.

Bowing slightly, she walked off the stage, hoping she did not look overly eager in her departure. The dress she wore was overstated and reminded her briefly of some of Carlotta's more eccentric outfits, with its multicoloured silks and patterned stitching.

Meg smiled at those who congratulated her backstage, sending jealous glances towards the practicing dancers. Her mother briefly locked eyes with her, an unreadable expression in their wise depths. Shaking her head, she brushed the thoughts aside, heading towards the dressing room she had been given, intending to change out of the awful costume she was wearing.

The calming blues of the dressing room welcomed her after she had successfully avoided the would-be suitors. Though it was not uncommon for a woman to get married at her age, Meg wanted to have a career of her own for as long as she could, try and save as much money as possible for she knew her dowry had to come from somewhere, when the time come for it to be needed.

Sighing, she slipped onto the small stool in front of the pine dresser, pulling the pins from her straight, flaxen hair, shaking the long strands out as soon as they were free. She quickly changed into her usual white dancing costume, deciding to leave the corset off for that night. She slipped her Pointe shoes on her feet, preparing to dance her anxieties away and keep up with her dancing at the same time.

She sincerely hoped that the managers would find a replacement for Christine soon, she was tried of the singing, and the practicing she had endured to raise her voice quality. Singing was Christine's domain, not hers.

The investigation behind Christine's disappearance had ended a few days earlier, the common theory was that she had run away with the Vicomte, which had been proved untrue when he had arrived at the Opera house and taking a role in the effort to find the missing soprano. Meg had a feeling her friend had left with her angel, and she knew her mother believed the same, for he had not collected his salary from his box a few days ago, and the ghost was widely known for his promptness.

Dragging herself from her reverie, Meg left the dressing room and walked back towards the now empty main stage, smirking as none of the suitors even glanced at her, not recognising the beautiful new singer in meagre chorus girl attire.

On the stage she felt free at last, performing her warm up stretches and routines, Meg felt she was back where she belonged. Dancing to a tune that existed only in her head, she turned her anguish, pressures and fears into movement, finding the steps comforted her and took away her pain in a way tears never could.

"Your dancing is truly a wonder, Mademoiselle Giry." A voice called from in front of her, causing her to stop abruptly and peer into the empty seats in front of her.

Raoul de Chagny sat comfortably in one of the chairs, a bottle of liquor in one hand, its contents half gone. The blonde felt pity for the man who had suffered so much for a love that was never his.

"Thank you Monsieur le Vicomte." Meg said, curtseying in respect. Her mother had drilled courtesy and politeness into her since she was a small child, and even in his drunken state, Meg felt the need to be formal.

"Now Meg, let us dispose of the formalities." He answered, a sluggish grin forming on his lips as he stumbled up onto the stage. He had a slightly haggard appearance, his blonde hair hang in wild waves, uncombed and his suit was donned hastily, as she could tell by the wrinkles and misplaced bow tie.

"I think you have had enough drink for tonight Monsieur." She added, taking the bottle from his grasp as he reached her on the stage.

He did not reply, only swayed slightly as he followed Meg backstage, she reached the small dining hall where the crew ate their small meals, hoping to find some water to sober the Vicomte slightly.

The hall was located next to one of the practice rooms, with long wooden tables and plain floors, the dining room was meant for the people who lived in the opera house, like herself, whilst the wealthier members ate elsewhere. A large basin of water stood at one end of the room, meant for drinking purposes, with cups on hooks beside it.

Meg guided the man to a seat as she fetched him some water, which he gulped down greedily, she also disposed of the alcohol in a sink meant for washing purposes.

"I am sorry you had to witness this Meg, I have been melancholy recently, and I apologise that you had to observe one of the more unpleasant side effects."

Meg smiled gently as she sat opposite the Vicomte, taking in the heavy bags under his eyes and the dull eyes that marred his otherwise handsome appearance.

"She is happy Raoul." Meg stated after a while, hoping her use of his first name was appropriate. "She lived for music, not the life of a noblewoman, she would have been suppressed and unhappy. Childhood sweethearts do not allow for life long passion." She intoned, grasping one of his hands for support. She could see the tears forming at the corner of his eyes, her heart almost breaking as she watched a grown man reduced to tears by her words.

The flaxen haired dancer let her mind wonder as she comforted Raoul, allowing him to dispose of his anguish in relative peace. She had never questioned her best friend's decision to follow her heart, but she had never realised the effect it seemed to have upon the man in front of her. Meg also doubted that the Vicomte was really in love with Christine, the fact he had only noticed her when on the centre stage added to this theory.

His tears subsided eventually, leaving a very sober man to apologise for his actions. Meg dismissed his apologies with a wave of her hand, giving the Vicomte a comforting smile.

"Come, I will escort you back to my room." She suggested, wincing as his eyebrows shot up in alarm. "My mother will be there, and she maybe able to help you with your … issues." Meg worded her sentence carefully. Her mother had a talent to help people realise their true feelings, and she suspected Raoul's appearance had much more to do with wounded pride than unrequited love.

The man in question nodded slowly, offering his arm out with a teasing grin that allowed Meg to laugh a little, such formality after what he had just done was laughable, but it helped to break the tension between them.

She gladly took the offered arm, both of them amicably talking and joking as they headed back to her room. He seemed a lot lighter now he had released his bottled emotions, and Meg couldn't help but notice the sparkle had returned to his blue eyes, a welcome change from the drunk man of a few hours prior.

The both halted as they reached her room, as her mother was standing at the door, arms crossed and a scowl on her ageless features.

"And where have you been Meg?" Madame Giry asked, looking over at the Vicomte, obviously taking in his messy appearance and drawing conclusions, _wrong_ conclusions.

"Mother, the Vicomte would like to speak to you, I assure you all will be explained in a moment." Meg informed her mother stiffly, watching as the older woman played with her long plait, a sign of displeasure she had learned to recognise.

"In that case I will see you inside in a few moments, sir." She replied icily, turning into the room and shutting door the firmly behind her.

They both winced at the sound.

Meg turned to face the older man, smiling slightly to ease his apprehension.

"She may seem tough but she is the most wonderful woman I know." She informed the nobleman strategically, brushing away a strand of hair from her face. In her haste to practice she had neglected to tie her long hair up and therefore had to deal with the consequences of having the blonde locks in the way.

"Thank you for your comfort tonight Meg, I will be certain I will show my gratitude to you at a future time." Raoul said, ever the gentlemen.

He looked upon her for a few moments, hesitation clear in his features, before he gained a resolved look, and leaned down to touch her cheek with his lips.

Her cheeks flushed at the contact, and she smiled despite herself.

"Go on Monsieur, I will see you at the performance tomorrow night." Meg said eventually, dipping into a courtesy as Raoul entered her room to talk with her mother.

She was surprised to find she missed his company.

…………………

Ah, I knew this is short, but it is an interlude, as stated, Erik/Christine romance starts in the next chapter as we return to the main plot.

I actually like Raoul, really I do. He was just too much of the Prince Charming for his own good. Poor child, he was rather immature but a good character I find, not a fop by any means. I hate it when he is portrayed in some fics as a jealous, crazed murderer as for anyone who has read Leroux's book knows that Raoul is constantly described as gentle and delicate, something that was kinda ignored in the movie.

**NEW VOTE:**

Do you hate Raoul?

Yes, No, or Undecided.

I'm interested I what everyone else thinks.

Review reponses:

**naomipoe**- (author blinks) Woah, science and theories, lol, that was unexpected, to be honest I think that's a load of bull, I think if you are brought up with sensitive parents who encourage writing and emotion than a person will be able to do it, regardless of gender, sexual preference or whatever.

**Kagome1514**- Will do, I will have to re-read it though, I have a bad memory, lol. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and this one hopefully. Thanks for the review.

**Twinkle22**- Lol, I never thought of my story that way, thank you so much :) Hope you wasn't disappointed with this chapter.

**Computerfreak101**- Thank you, I never realised my romance was that good (blushes). It would be boring if we all wrote romance though, I need humour as much as the next guy (or girl as it seems the case, lol). Oh and just wait for the lesson, it is my favourite scene…

**santinzevi89**- I usually do that too, I feel kinda bad but hey, I'm glad you are better than me! Thanks a lot :)

**Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey**- Nah they aren't boring, I appreciate them very much, thank you :)

**Lady Skywalker**- Sorry I didn't update soon, lol, I just started college so its like all up in the air, that said its better than Uni, well, I would imagine it was easier. Anyways, who should the swordfight be between… Erik and Christine, lol.

**CraZi-pHanTom-oBSESSIOn**- Lol, I'm very confused, let's just leave it alone, lol, thanks for the review!

Anyways, please review, I want to know what you thought of this, good, bad?

M.P


	13. Chapter Twelve: Pride and Prejudice

And here we are, back to the Erik/Christine stuff we all like, the romance sort of officially begins in this chapter, so I hope you like it. And I am so sorry for the long wait, really I am, College has been busy and I haven't had the time, and I needed to update other stories and STRESS! Lol.

Review responses are at the end, enjoy!

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**PRIDE AND PREJUDICE**

"Here, let me help you Miss." Gabrielle suggested, walking over to the struggling brunette in front of the mirror.

Christine sighed, frustrated with the corset that she was attempting to tie, the task was difficult, almost impossible by oneself, so she readily accepted the Gypsy's aid.

That evening, as planned, she was to have dinner with Erik, her first formal meal in the house. She had taken meals in the kitchen up until tonight, chatting mildly with the cook, a petite blonde with wise brown eyes, who reminded her of Meg, and was needless to say and exceptional cook. She would have to be to work with Erik, who demanded perfection in everything associated with him.

That was why, she thought, his facial deformity had such an impact on him. In her honest opinion it was not too bad, she had seen much worse, mostly caused by war, yet she knew it was futile to tell him so.

"Thank you Gabrielle." She muttered when the maid had finished with the undergarment. Christine had never liked corsets, after living with her father, away from fashion and the like she had found it difficult to fit in with the other girls at the opera house, who were constantly obsessed with their appearance.

She slipped into her evening gown, a forest green velvet number with white lacing around the low neck line. Christine felt the dress clung to her figure in an immodest way, but she had wanted to get Erik's attention, he was only a male after all, and not unaffected by such clothing.

Leaving her curls free, Christine put on some white dinner gloves that reached to her elbows, adding a touch of elegance to her look.

"Let's get this over with." She muttered, leaving her bedroom and heading down to the dining room at a leisurely stroll.

She gave a bright smile to Jasmine, the other maid, who was standing at the door to the dining room, a bright beam lighting her dark features.

Christine loved the dining room, with its light pink walls, adorned with tasteful paintings of long dead artists, the thick drapes that hung at the windows, their deep rose colour complimenting the colour scheme and the oak wood floor, which was simply covered with a rug. The mahogany table was set up for two, one at each end, the beautiful china sparkling under the glow of the ornate candelabra, and the light from the wall sconces.

Erik was seated at the chair farthest from the door, wearing a tuxedo impeccably, his white mask polished until it was gleaming. A wine glass was comfortably settled in his hand. His aquamarine eyes were trained on her, raking her figure, a small smirk of satisfaction pulling on wine stained lips.

"Have a seat Mademoiselle." He purred, his deep voice resounding around the room.

The brunette immediately complied and lowered herself onto a satin covered chair, relishing in the comfort of the room. A fire was blazing happily in the hearth, adding a warm and familial glow to the cherry room. For a minute, Christine could imagine being Erik's wife, enjoying this splendour every evening, with a few children perhaps. The image brought a smile to her face as the starter was served by Marie, the chef.

Christine gave a polite nod towards Marie, conscious of the silence in the room. _Maybe Erik doesn't like to talk at meal time?_ She wondered, waiting for Erik to start the soup that was served.

Luckily, Madame Giry had trained her in etiquette; she had a strong feeling that it would be needed for this dinner.

The first course passed in an uncomfortable silence. Gabrielle had emerged at some point, waiting for them silently by the fire to finish their meal. Wine had been offered to her, but Christine declined, knowing she had to keep her voice perfect for the lesson that night.

She hoped that Erik would not cancel the voice lesson he had suggested for that evening, after the tedious meal. She had been looking forward to it all afternoon, a spark in her otherwise very dull day.

"So, how was your day?" Christine asked awkwardly as their main course: roast lamb with steamed vegetables, was brought out.

Erik raised a sculpted eyebrow at her in a questioning manner, causing the brunette to gulp in trepidation.

"Adequate."

Christine was not surprised by the one word answer, and sulkily returned to her food, savouring the taste of the meal, making a mental to compliment Marie later for her excellent cooking.

"Where on earth did you find Marie? She's a wonderful cook." Christine commented, making another stab at conversation.

The dark haired man looked up again, his eyes meeting hers for a few seconds.

"A whorehouse."

The brunette was not surprised at such vulgar language at the dinner table, but suddenly felt a little sympathy for Marie, and pride for Erik for taking on these people without raising their past.

"Will we have our music lesson after dinner?" Christine asked timidly.

"Yes woman! Stop with the questions and eat your meal!" Erik replied irritably, effectively silencing his companion.

She made a point not to speak a single word throughout the rest of the dinner, and the rest of the night if she could.

After dinner was cleared away, Erik wordlessly strode across the room, offering his hand to her when he reached the door. She took it without complaint, smiling softly as the warmth from his hand seeped through her thin gloves. He led her up the stairs and into the music room, allowing her a first proper view of the handsome room.

The walls were painted a deep cornflower blue, the wooden floors covered in navy rugs, stitched with exotic patterns of far away kingdoms. As usual for Erik, the large windows were swathed in dark blue curtains, with wall sconces and various candles providing the light, and adding an ethereal glow to the room. A grand piano stood proudly by a fireplace on the opposite end of the room, and a large gold harp in a corner. Every available surface was covered in manuscript paper, some stained with spidery notes, some plain.

It was, all in all, Erik's hideout.

They silently approached the grand piano, Erik taking the seat in front of it, leaving Christine to stand nervously by the side.

"Let's start with some scales." Erik muttered, playing a few warming notes on the instrument before him.

Christine closed her eyes, revelling in the sound of music in her ears, the sweet melody of the piano echoing around her mind. She opened her mouth, allowing the sound to come forth naturally, in perfect pitch with the piano. She was half afraid that her song would be long forgotten, but to know it came naturally for her was a joy, one of the few she expected to receive in Erik's manor house.

She opened her eyes as the scales were completed, her chocolate eyes finding Erik's blue ones. His eyes were filled of an overpowering emotion, one she had never seen before.

Reverence. He looked entranced by the memory of her song, his gaze unrelenting and readable in his emotions.

"That was … good." Erik breathed out, in a tone very unnatural for him.

The brunette smiled at the compliment, knowing it was the best she would receive by this man, though his eyes had already told her what she desired for: pride and awe.

"Thank you." Christine replied, smiling as Erik shook himself and began to play songs from the operas she had performed in.

The enjoyment she received from singing them was unequalled, it was like tapping into a long forgotten memory, greeting a friend after many years apart. The notes came automatically, with little concentration required for her.

She was home.

All too soon Erik stood up from the piano, closing its lid carefully, informing her their lesson was over.

"Thank you Erik, I had a wonderful time tonight." She whispered as the man in question stood before her, his face stoic as usual, yet there was a contentment in him that wasn't there before, a happiness that made him look a lot younger than he acted.

"No, thank you mon ange." He replied, his voice even as he reached out with his bare hand to stroke her cheek gently.

Christine enjoyed the contact, burrowing her cheek into his calloused palm, surprised he would show such affection.

So she was understandably shocked when soft lips brushed against the creamy skin of her cheek softly, causing her to gasp in surprise and excitement.

Erik left the room a few seconds later, leaving her to dazedly run a hand across her face, musing whether the event that just happened was a dream or reality.

.…………….

I hope you liked the chapter: as usual, reviews/comments/emails are always welcome.

And the poll results:

Do you hate Raoul?

Yes: 4

Undecided: 1  
No: 6

I am quite pleased with this, It's nice to see most people don't hate the character just because he got the girl.

Thanks for the reviews:

**naomipoe**- Hmm, well my parents didn't exactly support me that much, I just read a lot, I picked up my style from some of the great authors and kinda mixed them together with something that is just me, lol. Thank you for the review.

**letthedreamdescend**- Very true, very similar to my opinion as well, Thanks for the review!

**you'llbemyangel**- Welcome to the story! Sorry for the wait and thanks for the review :)

**Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey**- It was slightly dramatic I agree, but I'm glad they did it in a way, he was not much of an important character in the play so it was cool he got a bigger part. Thanks for the review :)

**Lady Skywalker**- Lol, I have long(ish) hair too, I feel quite offended, lol, I'm joking, well, at least mine's not a mess sigh. Thanks for the review!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**- Welcome to the story :) I'm glad you like it and thank you for your compliments, it is quite hard to get the tension just right, but them being all lovey dovey is just awful, I would never butcher the characters that way, especially Erik. I'm glad you like my non-Raoul bashing policy too, lol. Thanks!

**Blood Of The Wolf**- Yeah, and you are entitled to your own opinions too, its just not my cup of tea as the say (that said I hate tea, lol). Thanks for the review!

**Kagome1514**- I recently re-read your Love of Music story, it's excellent :) Thanks for the review!

**trisana**- Lol, I heard that movie is crap, I will not watch, I might go murder the director, lol, no I wouldn't actually, he/she deserved to die cold and alone! I'm joking, I'm not that cruel. Meg is underdeveloped, I agree, she is my favourite character (helped along by Jennifer Ellison :P.) Thanks for the review.

**Computerfreak101**- Lol, Blood of the Wolf agrees with your views it seems on poor Raoul. I'm glad you liked the interlude, there will be a few, though with many chapters between them, don't worry! Lol. Thanks for the review.

**Twinkle22**- I'm glad you like my Raoul, lol. Sorry for the long space between updating, and thanks for the review!


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Hope

Hello again everyone, I am very sorry for how long this took to get out, I have been very busy with college and I have just finished two other stories as well, understandably I was concentrating on them a bit more. I only have two stories on the go now, so I will be able to update a lot sooner (hopefully).

I have also gone back and edited some of the earlier chapters, this is something I am doing with all my stories, going back, correcting mistakes, adding certain aspects in to make it flow better etc. So far I've done up to Chapter Four. As I'm sure you are aware, review responses are no longer allowed, so I am in the process of taking them out.

NOTE: In this story the slicked back, black hair is actually Erik's real hair, I know that this is not the case in the movie but I think Erik has it bad enough without a half head of hair, lol.

Anyways, enough waffling on from me, enjoy the chapter. Don't let the title fool you, expect angst, mwhahaha.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**HOPE**

Erik had spent the entire night in his study, barely eating the omelette that Gabrielle had placed upon his desk, along with a mug of coffee. He was not used to eating so much food at regular intervals, and it was taking a while to adjust to his new circumstances.

He was mentally berating himself for kissing Christine the night before. Though he had kissed her in the past, and much more deeply and passionately than a chaste kiss on the cheek, it felt oddly inappropriate for him to do so now. Before he could excuse his actions by acknowledging he needed to gain the singer's trust, lure her away from the opera house, so that his plan could progress. That was the whole purpose of Don Juan, to merge their souls by passion and desire.

Not love.

The previous night, after hearing his angel's divine voice he had felt a surge of affection so strong, and so pure that he had felt obligated to show her what he felt.

Shaking his head to clear his troubled thoughts, the dark haired man rose from his desk and gathered back the plush curtains that covered the wall length window in the room. He winced as the bright winter sunshine hit his face. The day was bright, clear and very cold. Trees stood tall and lonely without the warm company of their leaves, the grass was covered in a thin layer of frost. The flowerbeds of the garden were bare, the only remains of life were the dormant deciduous plants that had yet to rejuvenate for the spring that was coming.

"Time for the opera to begin." He whispered to himself, his breath steaming up the glass in front of him.

He turned around abruptly, letting the rich crimson curtain fall back into place as he left the room, ordering Jasmine, who he met in one of the corridors to inform Tom, his gardener and stable boy, to prepare a carriage. The maid looked slightly startled, but she immediately curtsied and left, leaving the laundry basket she was carrying unattended in the corridor.

Erik stormed down the staircase until the main entrance hall, and was immediately accosted by Gabrielle who handed him his cloak and gloves for the journey into a nearby village, only a few miles. He would never enter Toulouse during the daylight, the prying eyes and whispers were infuriating. The village was more of a small town, but with its thatched cottages and country lanes, it always felt more like a village to him, one where you could bring up your children safely.

He still felt a certain bitterness when he saw the young children of the town holding hands with their mothers, smiles all around, laughter sounding every couple of seconds. How he used to wish his childhood was as carefree as theirs. But not anymore, he now felt his childhood had taught him a valuable lesson. Trust no one, and you will not get hurt.

After donning the clothing, Erik stormed into the kitchen, where he found Christine eating her breakfast. Her large brown eyes were focused upon him in confusion, a cup of tea pursed at her lips ready to drink.

"Come Christine, I must speak with you." He said carefully, ensuring nothing in his tone of voice gave away the tension in side of him.

She nodded briefly, standing up from the table, giving a small smile to the chef who was currently preparing a roast duck for lunch. Erik had instructed the finest meal to be ready by two o'clock that afternoon.

The clock on the opposite wall showed it was just before nine in the morning. Erik sighed in frustration and anxiety over what the next few hours would bring.

_If only she knew, it is all for her_, he though morosely, looking around at the bright kitchen, and Christine herself, swathed in fine fabric and beautiful jewels.

The brunette followed him back to his study, the darkness that the room doused them in helped to ease the nervousness Erik was feeling. He was gambling a lot on this conversation, and had to choose his words carefully.

He guided the young woman to the seat in front of his desk, while he dropped into the chair facing her, the untidy desk in between them.

"Christine my dear?" Erik questioned, mentally wincing at his use of the affectionate name.

Unfortunately, Christine noticed his mistake and her brown eyes met his uncertainly, unsure of what was about to happen. She was playing with the amethyst necklace that she was wearing, the small jewels catching the tiny amount of light in the room.

"As you are aware, it is not appropriate for a bachelor to be living with a single woman like yourself." Erik continued, somewhat embarrassed at the situation before him.

Christine looked slightly confused as she leaned forward, placing her gloved encased hand on the desk, her wayward curls spilling over her shoulders and down the front of her lavender day dress.

"But we are not alone, we have Gabrielle, Tom and …"

"And they are not considered adequate chaperones within today's society." Erik finished for her, stopping her debate half way through.

Christine slumped back into her chair, avoiding his gaze for a few seconds. Erik knew these moments were crucial for the success of his scheme, and carefully adopted a concerned expression on his face, hoping to fool Christine into thinking he cared for her reputation.

"Why would you care for my reputation?" Christine asked him eventually, her eyes boring into his own.

Erik felt like wincing, but managed to restrain himself. He should have realised not to underestimate her, but a small part of him was glowing with the knowledge his angel had perception.

"I care, because you are going to become my wife." Erik slipped out before he could formulate a more subtle approach to the situation.

Erik watched nervously as Christine's mouth dropped in surprise, all smugness lost from her expression.

"I…erm, I … well …" Christine blubbered, causing Erik's hope to plummet.

Rage was building inside of him, demanding to be released, wanting him to take control of the situation, making Christine his wife regardless of what she wanted, yet for once he repressed it. Anger would only drive her away more, and cause him to regret his actions afterwards.

Christine had finally stopped gaping, and was once again staring at him. Her scrutiny made him uncomfortable, wishing she would just reject him and leave.

He felt a blush enter his cheeks, much against his will. He had suffered many forms of embarrassment in his life, but he felt this topped them all, for he actually cared what Christine thought of him, though he would never admit it to her.

He met her gaze once again, bracing himself for the torrent of insults, jibes and cruelties that lay in store for him.

Yet it didn't come. Christine continued to stare at him for a few more uncomfortable minutes, before her lips formed one whispered word.

"Yes."

………………………

_How do I get myself into these situations?_ Christine asked herself as she attempted to pay attention to the clergymen who was reading from the holy bible.

Erik was standing to her right, dressed all in black, his hair slicked back and the white mask placed neatly on his face. His aquamarine eyes were trained on the robed minister, a kind old man who run the small church they were in.

The church itself was beautiful, with biblical scenes painted on the walls with gold leaf stencilled around the stained glass windows. Hundreds of candles littered almost all of the surfaces in the tiny church, creating a romantic atmosphere for a less than romantic situation.

Christine felt utterly ridiculous in the elaborate white dress she wore. It clung to her upper body only to fall in many layers down to the floor once the fabric reached her waist. Lace, pearls and other trimming was placed around the bodice, accentuating the jewellery she wore and the shape of the dress. Her hair flowed free down her back, only stemmed by a small tiara which a veil was attached to.

The brunette felt both pairs of eyes on her, causing her to pull away from her thoughts. It was obviously her one and only line in the rushed ceremony.

"I do." She mumbled, saddened by the wide grin that emerged on the minister's face. He was obviously under the impression that she and Erik were very much in love when in fact they were hardly even friends. She barely felt the masked man slip a golden band onto her finger, too absorbed in her thoughts.

"You may kiss the bride."

The lips that descended onto hers were cold, harsh and demanding, almost a premonition into the rocky days ahead. Though she was glad she was not married to Raoul, she had wanted to have a career in the opera before settling down with Erik, whom she realised she had a strange attachment to. Her dreams were shattered, all she was going to be was a trophy wife and producer of heirs.

Christine linked her arm around Erik's, who was holding their marriage certificate and thanking the clergyman who had wed them.

He escorted her to a waiting carriage and they drove away from the little village near the house. Christine found it oddly appropriate that Erik had insisted their marriage take place at night, it seemed to be a tribute to his life before, under the opera house.

The ride was spent in silence, except for the small greeting they both gave Tom who was driving them back to the house.

Her mind dwelled on Erik's reaction to her acceptance. He had stared blankly at her for a few moments before blinking in shock. A triumphant smile had graced his lips, though it lacked any warmth. It reminded her of a predator who had finally caught its prey. He had immediately sent for Gabrielle, ordering her to prepare 'his future bride' for their wedding. Gabrielle has looked at her in shock but completed her task, not trying to instigate a conversation between them, obviously sensing Christine was not in the mood.

Erik offered her a hand as they stopped outside the house, gracefully exiting the carriage with his new wife in hand. They stepped into the warm entrance hall, where their staff were standing, applauding them, all with large smiles on their faces. Christine managed a shy smile and a mumbled "Thank You" before Erik whisked her up the staircase and practically dragged her into a room she had not entered before.

It was dark, the walls were painted a deep red and the floor was hidden beneath patterned black rugs. There was a large four poster bed, their obvious destination, dominating the room. Erik dragged her to the bed, slipping his shoes off as he did so.

Christine felt slightly dazed as she watched Erik undress both her and himself. She felt detached from reality. The brunette had expected her wedding night to be different from this; sweet, loving and pleasurable. Not the feral actions Erik was administrating on her to remove all clothing, his fingernails scratched her skin several times in an attempt to undress her more quickly.

However, Erik's actions were clumsy, rushed and lacking in his usual self confidence. He was as inexperienced as she was. That knowledge brought a small smile to her face, who Erik assumed was for him, as he once again claimed her lips. Erik was breathing harshly, and his hair had come free from its slicked back state, the raven locks were currently tickling her nose, casting his face into shadows. His eyes were still visible, their blue depths reflecting the limited light.

He entered her quickly, and proceeded to complete the wedding night ritual, regardless of the woman that lay beneath him.

The pain was slightly dimmed in her dazed state, but Christine knew she would be aching in the morning, and not just physically at that.

………………

Hmm. Dark. Too dark?

Reviews/emails welcomed as always, any questions contact me.

Seriously though, was that too cheesy? I apologise to those who thought this would be slightly ermm, sweeter but I wanted to live up to this stories M rating.

Sorry again for the long wait,

M.P

P.S. I will reply to all reviews, I need to work out the new system :)


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Darker Side of the

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I am so sorry guys, in the last time since I have updated I have had two exams, two pieces of coursework, a new computer, meaning I lost this chapter :( and various other accidents (I got my finger caught in a toaster – don't ask.)

I've started a Phantom forum (a proper one), you can find the link in my profile (the homepage) so if I take ages again you can tell me to hurry up! Plus you can share your stories as well.

But I'm back for now!

Enjoy!

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**THE DARKER SIDE OF THE TRUTH**

Pain throbbed deep within her, escalating as she awoke the next morning. The memories of the last night gradually seeped through her sleep induced haze and came to the forefront of her mind.

Her small hands explored the black bed coverings, partially visible against the poor light, which was being blocked out by heavy black drapes. Eventually her left hand skimmed over warm flesh, indicating that she was till lying beside Erik.

She turned onto her side, watching the pale man next to her. He was positioned on his side so that the distorted part of his face was blocked entirely, making him appear like every other man on the planet, a particularly handsome one at that, with a long straight nose and high cheekbones that anyone would desire.

A sigh of pity escaped her bruised lips, waking the man beside her. Obviously years of being hunted down had caused him to become a light sleeper.

"Good morning." Christine whispered softly as cobalt eyes studied her own in wariness.

"Why?"

The single word slipped out of her mouth before she could even comprehend it. Erik's entire body tensed, his eyes hardening, causing her to wince in anticipation.

She knew why she had accepted his wedding proposal. She was tired of being lonely, without anyone who could relate to her in the smallest of ideals, in this case it was their music that bonded them and allowed them to communicate. The last time she had developed such a connection with anyone was with her deceased father.

"Why would I ever want to marry you?" Erik intoned quietly, moving around so he sat up in bed, an angry glare on his face.

Christine sighed, knowing this conversation was of her own making.

"The answer is quite simple my dear." The dark haired man mentioned in his formidable voice, surprising her as she had not expected any response at all.

"The Vicomte expressed an interest in my property so I felt the need to protect it."

The brunette was sure her face was gaping in an unattractive expression of surprise, but she had never been implied as a piece of property before, not even among her days with the ballet rats, of the lowest class.

"How dare he even try to take what I had planned for so long to have beside, his interference caused me to hasten my plans, and bring you to me."

Anger and frustration coursed through her, but both were shadowed by the large amount of hurt she was feeling. The pain epitomised into a form she had not shed for many years; a tear. She hadn't cried since she was a little girl, not since her father died as she perceived as an act of weakness.

Erik looked slightly lost by her reaction, his eyes had widened slightly and a hand was being rubbed tiredly through his hair.

Suddenly, she shot out of the bed, disgusted by what had taken place there and the false grounding of the admittedly shallow marriage they ever had. Tying a loose sheet around her modestly, she left the dark imposing bedroom and headed towards her own, though she suspected it wouldn't be hers for much longer.

The painted white walls of her room were warming and the red silks sheets that covered her bed look highly inviting, however she headed straight towards her plain bathroom and drew a bath, pausing briefly to decide which flower petals she would use a fragrant.

After depositing the lavender into the bath she dropped the bath sheet that covered her and slid into the warm water. The warmth seemed to seep into her skin, washing the pain away and leaving a warm red blush on her skin. The brunette felt dirty after consummating a shameful marriage and the water helped to ease her conscience.

"Forgive me, Father." She whispered to herself as she sunk under the water to wash her long curls.

………………

_I should not have told her_, he scolded himself, almost wishing that he still took Morphine that at least brought relief from reality.

Erik was standing impatiently in the drawing room, waiting for his wife to arrive. In a moment of what he considered brief insanity, he ordered the walls to be painted a soft lilac hue, complimented with deep purple curtains and light oak furniture which contrasted the mahogany wooden floor which was adorned with soft sheepskin rugs. A few bookcases stood either side of a proud fireplace which was warming the room and bathing it in a comforting glow. He had designed the room with Christine in mind, and he secretly hoped she would enjoy it for many years to come.

The raven haired man deeply regretted his actions earlier, knowing they stemmed from a long existing fear that he would be rejected by anyone he let close. He had strived to keep everyone far away from his battered self for most of his life, only extending comradeship to Madame Giry at the best of times, but Christine had slipped in undetected, her voice like an opium that dulled all senses.

He had asked Jasmine to escort Christine to the room to hopefully repair some of the damage he had caused.

Erik's reason for marrying her was out of a strong emotion he was unfamiliar with, which he liked to call love, yet once again his past had dampened his future.

"Good evening Erik." A soft voice said from the doorway.

He turned to see Christine, dressed in a silk crème dress that highlighted her porcelain skin and dark hair, beautifully crafted diamonds hang proudly from her ears and neck, glittering under the firelight. Her hair was swept out of her face and gathered elegantly at the back of her neck in a chignon. Her presence was intoxicating, almost causing him to lose all sense of purpose.

"Please take a seat." He instructed breathlessly, scolding himself again on such a dreamy tone. Christine made no move to comment on it however, only a slight raise of an eyebrow gave him knowledge of her perception.

Erik himself took a seat in an elegantly crafted wooden chair opposite the chaise lounge Christine had perched herself on.

"I invited you here to inform you of some guests that will be arriving soon."

Christine's eyes met his, intrigue evident in her gaze.

"Madame Giry and her daughter will be arriving sometime next week, I have it on good authority that there is some news you need to hear."

A small smile entered her face, one which he assumed would become a full fledged grin if he wasn't in the room.

"I have a request." Christine said after a while, disturbing the stifling silence that had been created, the memories of the night before creating a palpable tension between them.

"I wish to stay in my own bedroom." She said firmly, her eyes refusing to keep contact with his own.

Anger rose up within him, wanting to be unleashed in its ugly glory, yet he knew it would only scare her away from him, and that was not what he wanted in the future, a wife scared by her own husband whom she supposedly loved enough to willingly spend her life with. Their marriage may not be the most conventional but he wanted to make it work, and he could only do that by sacrificing some of his own desires.

"As you wish." He gritted out, hoping it sounded somewhat polite.

The brunette was obviously surprised by his acquiesce.

"Thank you." She whispered as she dropped into a curtsey and left the room at a frantic pace, apparently thinking he would change his mind should she stay in the room for a moment longer than necessary.

"Oh and Erik?" He looked up to see Christine standing at the door jamb, turning back into the room slightly.

He rose an eyebrow in question, keeping his eyes trained on his wife.

"This is a lovely room." She complimented before leaving, unaware of the small smile present on the man's face.

……………

Now that is a much better ending to a chapter, knowing relative peace has been restored. The next chapter will be a Raoul/Meg affair, where the plot will thicken a bit more.

Join the forum if you wish, it would be cool to know my readers a bit better. Reviews/Suggestions etc. are of course welcome.

M.P


	16. Chapter Fifteen: The Other Side of the

Yes I am alive. This time you can blame my muse, I tried to force myself to write something and it came out pretty shit to put it bluntly. But then I was struck by inspiriation. So prepare to find out what has been going on in the hallowed halls of Opera Populaire! (I feel the need to insert an evil laugh here, but I have desisted, but feel free to do this yourself).

Note: I am pretty sure there was no mention of Raoul's parents in the novel or film, so I made my won backstory, sorry if this offends you, I just thought of it as filling the (many) gaps in Leroux's plot.

Enjoy.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TRACKS**

The pale body was convulsing with spasms periodically; the swollen throat sucking in breaths with great difficulty, the abused lungs were not processing enough oxygen into his bloodstream. Golden hair clung to a pale, clammy forehead. The handsome face had been ravaged by disease, with the skin an unnatural pasty white, and the cheeks hollowed out from low food intake. It was clear to anyone that the man was dying.

However, nobility always took it hard when one of their own was dying young. Many believed strongly that God would protect their own and they would be blessed by his omnipotence.

The servant sighed loudly, pale blue eyes darting over to the body on the bed frequently. Tuberculosis was a particularly heinous disease, a natural death sentence if caught, which is why only a lowly servant would be in the room to monitor his progress. The servant was seen as dispensable.

The man on the bed let out a piercing cry, bloody spurting from his mouth, a sigh escaping his lips afterwards. He rushed towards the bed, trying to find a pulse.

The inevitable has occurred, the patient had died. There was nothing left to do except inform the family.

………………………

Meg huffed angrily, giving up on the vocal exercises she had been assigned for a few moments. A replacement for Christine had not been found, as many of the potential singers had been scared off with the various tales of the Opera Ghost that flew around all levels of society within Paris. Intellectuals and sceptics of the entire affair insisted that he had died in the caverns residing below the controversial Opera House, as it was rumoured he was old in age however the nervous, the gossiping and the plan idle grasped onto the story, attempting to drain all conversation from it.

The blonde was situated in a one of the many practice rooms situated in the Opera house, the ceilings were high, enhanced with a painting of the heavens, the walls were of deep red and gold, with carvings placed against them to pronounce the feeling of superiority and awe. Madame Giry had informed her the practice room was designed this way for two purposes, one to introduce performers to the grandeur of the stage, ensuring they are blasé enough to perform without distraction and secondly to impress potential patrons for the Opera Populaire.

The creaking of a door alerted Meg to visitors, the subdued whispers confirming their entry.

"Did you hear of that poor De Chagny fellow? Died of Tuberculosis last night!"

Meg gasped and spun around, facing a class of prepubescent girls in ballet gear, ready to rehearse with her mother.

"Yes, his younger brother is apparently deeply upset by the loss." A blonde girl replied, sighing in fake grief.

The more experienced dancer let out a small sigh of relief, promptly gathering her things and returning to the room she had claimed since Christine's departure. To her great surprise she found a man standing at her door, waiting for her return presumably. The long golden hair and tall stature immediately gave his identity away as the younger De Chagny brother, and controversial friend.

Ever since the day Meg had rescued Raoul from his drunken stupor she had made a point to talk to him whenever she could, just to ensure that he was coping in his new situation.

"Ahem."

Raoul turned, his eyes sparking a little when he saw her, but immediately returning to their dull state. He was immaculately dressed in an all black ensemble, as a sign of respect towards his dead mentor and brother.

"I see you heard the news." He mumbled in a scratchy voice, one that had clearly been abused by hoarse shouting and crying, gesturing towards her.

She had worn a long skirted, lacy black dress that day. The bodice was tight and flattering, with a delicate lace embroidering the curved neckline and empire waist, the skirt falling to her feet elegantly. Her long blonde hair was knotted on top of her head, giving a more regal look to her.

Meg blushed slightly, not wishing to reveal she was only wearing black as she had become too languid to send her used clothes to be washed.

"Please, do come in." She mumbled, opening the door to her suite and leading the older man into the room. The cornflower blue walls never failed to calm her, and this time was no exception. She gestured to a cream chaise lounge that dominated the front part of the room as she herself descended on a small armchair that she had claimed as her own.

"I am sorry for your loss Raoul. I know others must be extending the sympathies as a polite necessity but I would not wish anyone the pain of losing a close relative."

Meg's thoughts lingered back to her father for a moment before she placed her full concentration on her guest. Raoul had acknowledged her comment with a tight smile and a nod of recognition.

"I am the last remaining De Chagny, I am the sole possessor of the family fortune and estates. My parents died when I was only five years old, in a foreign land they had decided to visit on a whim. A disease so I was told. My brother raised me, taught me how to be the man I have become. I am indebted to him to carry on the traditions of the family."

Meg was slightly taken aback by his passionate speech, but gave a comforting smile and a nod of encouragement.

"Meg Giry, you have helped me through some emotional trauma and difficult times. I am therefore indebted to you also. Your kindness and gentle spirit have seeped into my very soul and healed me, made me whole. Your talent is remarkable, God intended you to dance, to entertain, to thrill and to be adored by audiences forever. Yet I can guarantee no one on this Earth admires your beauty, talent and your soul as much as I do."

Meg was sure her mouth was gaping open obscenely at this point, her mind could not fully comprehend his words. Confusion flitted across her features, prompting one more sentence from the adoring Victome.

"I love you."

The blonde dancer stood up abruptly, crossing the distance between them and placing herself next to her admirer on the chaise lounge. She grasped his arm tightly, just to ensure this was in fact real, and not a strange dream.

"This is all somewhat shocking." She whispered.

Raoul nodded understandingly, before placing his larger hand over hers.

"I would like you to be my wife."

Meg felt the need to pinch herself repeatedly to make sure her hearing had not failed her.

Conflicting thoughts rose within her. _Am I good enough?_ She thought dazedly. Her reputation had greatly improved in recent months, both the social elite and working classes both respected her for performing her duty and stepping to save her home and friends. They admired the fluidity of her body as she danced, and the innocence that shone through in her voice, but she knew full well that the upper classes would never accept her as a social equal. A low birth is a low birth. _Can I consciously bring him down with me?_

Yet her ultimate goal in life since her father had died was to find security for herself and her mother, where they would not have to worry about finances or what they would die when the opera careers came to a close. Meg was forced to learn how to sew and knit just in case she would have to be a seamstress to support her small family. Raoul could offer both her and her mother security at last.

_But am I ready to leave Opera Life?_ Her acceptance would force her to become a housewife, her life would be nothing more than dinner parties, children and running a household_. Do I even love him?_ She could grow to love him, of that she was certain, but an everlasting resentment would exist between them, as her security would sacrifice her dreams.

Raoul's face was looking resigned with each second that passed, the single tear that had escaped from one of his blue eyes broke her heart. _I can not willingly cause him more pain, he has been through so much_…

"I would be honoured to be your wife."

As the words slipped past her lips, a delighted Raoul slipped a diamond ring on her finger, the weight nothing in comparison to the one in her mind.

"I will make you happy, I promise." Raoul whispered as he brought her into a loving hug that almost broke her heart. She realised he needed love, he needed acceptance, and she was the only one that could give it.

Yet the heartfelt promise still felt empty to her ears.

………………………

Wow. I wrote that all in one go. My muse was back!

**HUGE IMPORTANT NOTICE.**

**I REALISE I AM NEGLCTING THIS STORY, AND THIS IS NOT BECAUSE I DO NOT ENJOY IT, NOT AT ALL, IT IS LIKE A FIRST BORN CHILD TO ME, BUT I NEED THAT EXTRA PUSH AND MOTIVATION TO GET ME GOING. SO I AM ASKING IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO BECOME MY PARTNER IN WRITING THIS, OF COURSE YOU WILL BE FULLY ACKNOWLEDGED.**

Enough of the caps locks. Right, of you are interested, let me know via review/email or the forum I have set up (my homepage). There will be a tester to see if we are on the same wavelength and to find the author I gel with the most. So yeah, let me know. :)

Comments are of course always welcome.

M.P.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Irony

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**IRONY**

Christine peered anxiously around the curtain, staring through the window into the courtyard below. Rain splattered against the glass in a repetitive drone, obscuring the outside from view, though the blurred form of a carriage was still recognisable from her vantage point.

Nervously, she smothered out a crease in her forest green dress, hoping that Madame Giry and Meg would not begrudge her for wearing such finery. Now that she was a married woman she doubted that there was little else she could do to surprise them.

Her eyes focused on the moving figures she could vaguely see from the upper floor window. Three people moved quickly across the yard, not wanting to linger in the downpour.

Christine was certain Erik had only mentioned of two guests and was curious about the third, yet she knew her questions would go unanswered if voiced. _Time will tell_, she thought with reluctance.

The man in question was standing in the main hall below, ready to receive their guests into their home. Sighing, she allowed the curtain to fall back into its place and hurried along the corridor towards the marble staircase that dominated the entrance to the home.

Erik was standing rigidly next to the door conversing with a familiar blond man that also seemed slightly put off with the situation at hand. Her normal reaction would be to cry out and express her shock at the scene before her, but she had become quite acquainted with the twisting hand of fate. Sighing slightly, she toyed with a loose curl and descended the steps.

Madame Giry was the first to notice her presence and gave her an unreadable look, her ageless face portraying almost no emotion at seeing the woman she once considered another daughter.

"Welcome to our home," Christine stated awkwardly, nervously toying with the cuff of her dress.

Meg immediately looked up at the sound of her voice, a surprised smile lightening her features. Meg was wearing a beautiful dress with a bodice studded with sparkling jewels, descending into a full skirt that floated around her, giving an almost unnatural elegance to her. Her long blonde hair was expertly tied to the nape of her neck, held in place with various slides encrusted with yet more finery. The midnight blue of the outfit contrasted with the flaxen hair her honorary sister was blessed with.

_Why is she wearing such fine clothes? _Christine wondered, slightly taken aback by such a beautiful ensemble. _ Looks like I need not of worried for wearing too much finery_, Christine noted, still appraising Meg's outfit, much to the discomfort of the ex-dancer.

"Christine, you look beautiful. Married life suits you well." Raoul commented, drawing the brunette from her observations. She smiled hollowly at the man she had once thought she loved and nodded in thanks. Erik raised his visible eyebrow in an expression Christine thought to be of as amusement, for he was far too caged to smile openly, especially with various people around him.

"I only hope it will look as good on dear Meg." Raoul continued, looking over at the blonde in question who flushed at the statement.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, the reality behind such an innocent statement came crashing down on her shoulders.

"Who?" She managed to croak out, berating herself mentally for sounding so shocked. Her friend was a beautiful young woman and it should not be such a surprise for her to be proposed to. Yet her new fiancé must be part of the upper classes to give such extravagant gifts like the dress she was currently wearing.

"That would be me." Raoul mentioned, drawing closer to Meg and putting an arm around her waist affectionately. Christine blanched at the scene before her, not sure how to react. Madame Giry was once again eyeing her in a knowing way, with Erik looking over at her reaction, scrutinising every emotion that flittered on her face.

"If you would excuse me." She managed to gasp, taking one last look at the couple before fleeing to her bedroom, needing solitude to organise her troubled mind.

……………………

She had spent all of five minutes alone before a demanding knock echoed on her door. She had fled to the charming drawing room, finding its soft lilac scheme soothing and comforting. She lay on the floor, the soft sheepskin rugs brushing against her skin, offering a reassuring presence and familiarity. Ignoring the insistent knocking, she allowed her mind to dissect the scene that just took place.

Christine was confused as to why she was so upset about Meg marrying Raoul. She certainly had no desire to marry the man anymore, and she did not wish for her friend to die a spinster. She wished every happiness for both of them with all of heart, yet the idea of them together was deeply unsettling.

_Is it because he found her so quickly after giving up on you _Her conscience whispered to her, trying to rationalise the state she found herself in. Christine dismissed that idea immediately. She had wanted Raoul to stop pursuing her, she was not in love with him and never will be. To be a trophy wife to a rich man was not the life she wanted, her life was to be full of music, every event that occurred within it was to be comparable to a haunting melody or a beautiful a cappella.

_Is it because Meg's marriage life is guaranteed to be less tumultuous than yours?_ Christine quickly dismissed that notion as well. Erik may not have been the perfect gentlemen throughout their acquaintance but he had shown her repeatedly that he held some affection for her, even though it was disguised by his fear of being rejected. She firmly believed in the will of God, knowing that the two of them were meant to be together, even though life would not always be easy.

_Or is it the fact Meg can enjoy Raoul's company in public and declare their love to the world _Christine's conscious self balked at the suggestion, but she was beginning to realise she had the proverbial nail on the head. Erik would never suffer the public's hatred and mocking for anyone, and though she understood that it never stopped her from desiring she could walk into a room, arm linked with her husband's and be able to tell the world of their union and have them acknowledge it. Meg could look forward to balls, fancy dinners, public declarations of love and the sort, which she would never receive. The idea of herself and Erik parading into a ball, conversing with other couples was quite laughable.

"Please Christine, open the door and let me explain." Meg cried through the door, repeatedly banging on the wooden surface.

With a patient sigh, the brunette crossed the floor and opened the door to a disgruntled Meg, her blonde hair having wormed its way out of its precise do, making her appear much more like the childhood friend she knew and loved, and not a porcelain trophy wife to a desirable bachelor.

"Please, come in." Christine commented, desperately trying to act like a proper hostess. She gestured for Meg to sit in one of the comfy armchairs by the fire, and immediately sat in the one opposite. She nervously smoothed some of the crinkles in her full skirt which had been created from her soul searching sojourn on the floor.

"Meg, there is no need to apologise, my feelings are truly not hurt. I have husband who can provide for me for the rest of my life, one who shows me his love through music and architecture," she paused briefly to gesture at the fine room they were currently dwelling in. "Please do not believe I judge you for becoming engaged to a childhood sweetheart, I never loved him in an adult manner, it was a simple childlike affair that was too innocent to venture far."

Meg looked slightly reassured by her carefully chosen words, knowing their friendship was in no danger.

"I do not love him." The blonde cut in bluntly, effectively stifling the rest of her speech.

Christine looked at her friend in something akin to horror. _A loveless marriage? Who would desire such a thing?_ her inner self cried out, a mixture of pity and outrage forming within her.

_Is that not what I find myself in?_ The persistent voice questioned again. Her relationship with Erik was a confusing situation to be in, at time he showed such a tenderness her heart could not cope with the severity of his feelings. Yet at others the man was aloof and disconcerting. He could create a barrier in-between them simultaneously, unconcerned with her feelings at being shut out.

_Is it not a form of protection? _Christine pondered at the notion, wondering if in a complex way, Erik was merely testing her patience at the boundaries of her heart. Seeing how far she will tolerate his behaviour and attitudes. He had lived a hard life, and was clearly not willing to give his heart and soul to a young girl who may resent him for it later. Perhaps he was trying to show her what it was like not to be in control, to be forced into doing things that were not favourable and went against any moral code.

"Why marry him then?" Christine uttered, unaware of the question leaving her lips.

Meg looked discomforted by such a question, as though it was linked to an internal argument, much like the ones that plagued Christine's self.

"Security. Mother will not be around forever, and being a dancer is not a career for life. What would I have done when my bones became so weak that I could barely stand? Who would I turn to? Raoul can offer me protection for life, and that extends to my Mother as well, though she will never know of this."

Christine raised an eyebrow at the confession, not surprised, but slightly disappointed in her friend. "You underestimate your mother if you think she knows not of your plan. However, what is puzzling is that she has agreed to it with her silence. Perhaps she can see a future for you Meg, a happy future."

Meg paled slightly at her words, realising that her mother knew of her plan, despite her best efforts to hide them.

"Raoul is not a bad man, perhaps in time you could love him, I'm sure he has already surrendered his heart to you." Christine noted, her words confirmed by a slight flush appearing on her friend's cheek.

"Perhaps you are right Christine, love takes time to manifest." Meg commented, raising herself from her chair. Dipping in a slight courtesy in honour, Meg left the room, leaving Christine again to her own thoughts.

Her mind was still fixated upon Meg's attitude to a loveless marriage, as if it was not something to fear, just an ordinary event that does not deserve much acknowledgement.

"I will never allow my marriage to be like that." She vowed, and for the first time that night, her inner voice was quiet.

…………………

Well, where does on start?

7 months is a long time, even for me. I want to apologise to those who were reading this story, I really do appreciate the fact you take the time to read it, and I know me not updating is a pretty lousy thing to do, but I am sorry things have happened this way. There's not really a reason for it as such, it's more a mixture of events that have left me unable to write or unwilling to. Nevertheless, I am back, and I promise it won't be as long next time. I already the next chapter planned out so it should be up a lot sooner.

Any comments, are as always much appreciated, and I promise to answer them all.

Until next time,

M.P


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Mutual Sentiments

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**MUTUAL SENTIMENTS**

Erik stared covertly at the young man who sat opposite his desk, waiting patiently for him to finish the cup of lemon tea he was currently fixated with. He had summoned Raoul to his study, believing some things needed to be cleared and out in the open before they could truly tolerate each others' presence.

The younger man had written him a correspondence a mere few days ago with news of his engagement to Madame Giry's daughter, insisting that he did not want to be parted with his wife to be and wished to join them on their excursion to visit Christine. Erik had pondered whether allowing the man into his home would be a good idea, and wondered how his wife would feel about it. Finally, he came to the conclusion that it would be good for Christine to settle her past with the man and get used to the idea of seeing her best friend with Raoul. This allowed him to tie up a loose end which had plagued his mind for a while, now he had the newly christened Comte in his debt.

They were currently seated in his study, the familiarity of the environment was comforting to him, even if his guest was slightly nervous at being in his domain. His nervousness amused Erik, considering Raoul was doing everything in his power not to show it.

"The only man I have ever killed was a rapist and a merciless beater, you need not fear for you life." Erik goaded, watching the man fluster a little.

Raoul toyed with his viridian cravat, his furtive eyes never once touching on Erik's frame.

"I believe you have something for me." Raoul intoned, decidedly avoiding the subject at hand.

Erik would have been a fool to believe the disappearance of one Christine Daaé would go unnoticed for long, and no doubt there were many a missing persons advertisement out there on the off chance she could be found. He needed these advertisements stopped, something he needed the newly christened Comte for. The De Chagny could pull a lot of strings, and many would need to be pulled in an intricate order so he can Christine could live their life undisturbed.

However, as with all of the upper class business dealing, a penny here and there would not go amiss to help things along; though he was willing to pay substantially more than a penny to ensure the safety and happiness of his wife.

Erik slipped a piece of paper over the meticulously ordered desk and into the younger man's awaiting hand. Blue eyes scanned the sum elegantly printed on the paper, one eyebrow shooting up in surprise.

"Consider the rest a wedding gift."

Raoul nodded once awkwardly in thanks, not quite able to vocalise the gratitude.

"I know she is only marrying me for security, for money. I know it is not motivated out of cruel intentions, and I know she is fond of me slightly. I just want to show her how much she means to me, and I think helping Christine out like this would really show that."

Erik nodded, a tight lipped smile entering his face, taking his guest by surprise. They were all just fools in love, with no idea how to do it justice. From young, to old, to the beautiful and disfigured, they just wanted someone to love and cherish.

"I think you should be telling her this, not me." Erik stated quietly, almost snorting at the irony of the Phantom giving love advice to deluded young men.

"Well, thank you very much kind sir, it is much appreciated."

And with a pompous, exaggerated bow he left, no doubt a testament to his formal upbringing.

With the boy gone, Erik was free to concentrate on the Christine's reaction to their guests. He had deliberately not told of her the fact the De Chagny boy was coming as well as he feared she would be unwilling to accommodate them, which would severely disrupt his plans.

She had seemed shocked at first; retiring to the room he had designed for her. She had claimed the drawing room as her own, just as he intended, and he hoped they would be able to share its advantages in the future. Later, after a lengthy discussion with Meg, Christine offered her congratulations to the couple, asking about the date for the wedding, and started to discuss the details of the dresses and decorations with Mme. Giry and her daughter, her brightened face drilled a sense of guilt in him for taking away her obvious dream for an expensive, public wedding.

Yet, as she proudly flaunted her wedding ring and talked of the house and its servants, he could not stop the small smile that had crept upon his face. Despite all odds he had made her happy, to a certain extent, and he only planned to build on this newfound happiness.

A knock sounded on the door to his study, causing him to break from his thoughts and answer the caller. Madame Giry stood there, in her ageless grace, a small smile on her face as she nodded in greeting. Erik left the door open for her as he returned to his desk, trusting his only friend would take the initiative to enter the room.

The older woman currently looked more like a wealthy patroness instead of a dancing instructor, though he doubted she would ever see the opera house again, thanks to her daughter marrying into wealth. The woman he knew would never have allowed for such a limitation of independence, but he knew there was some hidden agenda she was fighting to complete. She was dressed in a floor length gown of a deep red, flattering her lithe dancer's build that seemed undisturbed by age or childbearing. Her auburn hair was cascading down her back, a few studded slides keeping stray locks from falling into her face.

"I presume that you believe your daughter and the De Chagny will make a good couple. Your life at the Opera House was a lot to give up for a marriage of convenience." Erik mentioned, knowing that Antoinette would have already worked out her daughter's intentions.

"You know as well as I that my time at the Opera House was limited, a woman my age is supposed to be looking after a husband or grandchildren, or both." She sighed, engrossed with the diamond and ruby ring resting on her finger, a gift from Raoul's family he had been told. Erik did not envy the family politics she would have to adhere to in her daughter's married life. Luckily, as he had been told, Raoul's mother had once aspired to be a dancer before she was too old to realise her life would be dictated to her and found Antoinette's company enjoyable and sought it on many occasion, easing her introduction into their family circuit.

"Raoul loves my daughter, and in time she will realise she loves him too. Her mind may have controlled her decision to marry him, but her heart would not have allowed her to if she found it a horrendous idea." She intoned wisely, her icy eyes meeting his.

Erik had once fancied he loved Antoinette, with her flawless beauty and kind, but tough spirit. He now knew any affection he held for her stemmed from her helping him over the years, and the companionship she offered willingly. They had been extremely close in their younger years, though his self imposed exile into the 'Phantom' persona had disturbed their friendship more recently. He hoped to reconcile any differences they had, but at seeing her in his home knew time had healed all wounds between them.

"Plus, there is no one at the Opera House to entertain me with their various magic tricks." She commented, showing him a slight smile that was reserved for him and her daughters.

"Indeed, he is too busy trying to use his magic tricks on his wife." Erik retorted, rubbing a hand dejectedly through his dark hair. In any other company he would never dream of being so relaxed, but relaxing in the wake of his rescuer was almost second nature. She had earned his trust, and he had earned hers, allowing them to behave so colloquially with each other.

"Do not push her away Erik, I will know if you do. It is your time to be happy; I suggest you seize it."

…………………

Erik currently stood in the unused master bedroom. Christine had taken one of the more luxurious suites in the old house, whilst he had accommodated a small bedroom next to his study, decked out in the same dark colours.

The master bedroom was designed for a married couple, with two strong wardrobes of oak resting comfortably in the alcoves either side of the marble fireplace. Two porcelain sinks lay in a bathroom to the right of the room, connected by an elaborately configured alcove. However, there was only one bed, clothed in luxurious velvets and satins in various shades of gold, which matched the shimmering walls and light ceiling. The dark oak floors gleamed in the readily available light, obscured by only the sheepskin rugs that lay to warm the bedroom in the dead of winter.

The room was for a man and his wife; Erik and his Christine.

Gabrielle was summoned to bring the lady in question to the room after dinner, which was a delicious affair with merriment, music and laughter. The house seemed alive all of sudden, a home where one could envisage young children parading its corridors and abusing its gardens.

The soft click of the door closing alerted him to his beloved's presence.

Looking over, he saw Christine stand in shock at the beautiful room, before looking over to her husband, smiling beautifully as she did so. She was dressed in nothing more than a nightdress, one of the purest white he had ever seen. Her long, dark curls lay free, contrasting her porcelain skin and complimenting her warm eyes. She was breathtaking, beauty personified, and she was smiling at him.

Slowly, he walked over to her, pulling her into his embrace. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as she stood flush against his body, her curls falling over the thin white shirt he was wearing.

"I believe it is time for bed, angel." He whispered, guiding her to the beautiful four-poster in the centre of the room. Without complaint, she climbed into the bed, resting her head on his shoulder.

For the first time in memory he felt safe, completely content to lay with his wife in their bed forever, never to see the waking world again.

………………………

Yes :D An update in a week! This is very good for me! does happy dance

Only the Epilgoue to go, the ending has crept up on me and I think I will be sad to finish this story.

Comments/reviews/emails are of course welcome and will be replied to (if you can leave a means for me to reply!)

Until next time,

M.P.


	19. Epilogue: In Shadows Together

**EPILOGUE**

Meg sighed as she put down the book she had been pretending to read. They were all currently sat in the drawing room, relaxing after a long stroll around the grounds. The wind had been bitingly cold and the ground was frosty underfoot but it was a pleasant experience. Erik had seemed uncomfortable in the bright winter sun that illuminated everything with a pale glow, yet he had hid it well, seeing the look of appreciation on Christine's face at being outside.

As children, Christine had always dragged her outside. She would be more than willing to stay indoors and practice her steps and routines, yet somehow the brunette managed to convince her every time to explore the park nearby. Her mother would always scold them later that evening, but they never regretted it.

Smiling at the memory, Meg glanced over at her friend. Christine sat by the fire, with Erik over her shoulder, having a heated discussion about a book in Christine's hands. Neither would back down from their view, and with frantic flipping of the pages, tried to convince the other that they were right. Meg had always admired Christine's stubbornness, even though it had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion.

Her mother sat in an isolated corner of the room, writing a letter in her perfect script. She had not mentioned who it was for, and the blonde was extremely curious as to who her mother needed to correspond with on their vacation. She had resisted the urge to pry, knowing she would be told if it were important enough for her to know.

"Who would have thought that they would mould so perfectly together?" A voice in her ear questioned. A slight head turn showed Raoul's profile in the corner of her vision. Meg allowed the automatic smile to enter her face. She had found herself enjoying the Comte's company over the last few days. The only time they would actively seek each others' presence before was to get help for their various problems. She had helped Raoul mourn for the loss of his brother, and helped him to prepare for his new role as the Comte, a favour in which he returned by detailing the expectations of a Comtesse. However, these meetings had turned much more personal, with stories of their respective childhoods shared, favourites debated and secrets divulged.

"I could see it from the beginning, the two are very much alike." Meg whispered back, blushing slightly as her lips grazed his ear.

The two shared a shy smile, turning to face each other properly.

"Do you regret accepting me, Meg? I asked you not out of duty, but of a personal affection I can't begin to describe. It started at the Opera House, I looked forward to our secret meetings more than I can say. I have always trusted you with the deepest secrets and emotions that I would share with no one else…"

Meg placed a finger against his lips, stifling the rest of his speech. The blue eyes she had come to admire looked at her in confusion, fear of being rejected clear to see in their depths.

"I love you too." She said simply, finally confident enough in her feelings to admit it.

Raoul appeared emotionless for a second, a moment that stilled her heart with trepidation.

A simple kiss silenced her inner conflict and finally, for the first time since they had left Paris, she found her body relaxing, in the arms of someone she loved.

………………

"I still believe that Isabella was innocent, she knew not of the manipulative forces that were influencing her." Christine argued, a fiery gleam in her dark eyes. The sat in their bed in the master bedroom, dressed in the nightclothes but unwilling to sleep until there was a consensus on their debate.

Erik merely raised an eyebrow, his eyes reflecting her passion for the subject.

"You are fool, Mademoiselle Daaé if you think she did not use her good reputation to her advantage. She only cares for herself not others."

"No, it is Madame Destler." Christine replied, without thinking.

That one sentence ended their debate on Shakespeare at once, both of them not knowing how to respond to such a bold statement.

Christine could not think of the moment she came to see herself as Erik's wife. The moment he had claimed her as his for the first time should not have been pleasant, yet there was an emotion to the whole experience she could not pinpoint, one that overshadowed any horror. It was almost a sense of belonging, as if her soul and God knew this was where she should be, and where she would be most happy. From that point onwards her mind, which had so actively analysed his flaws before, had become to understand, as if that one night had provided not only a means for physical connection, but an emotional one as well, a connection that allowed her to understand and empathise with Erik. That gift alone was worth any pain she suffered at his hands.

Christine glanced over at the man she realised she loved, with an acute sense of ownership; she had his heart firmly in her possession and was unwilling to let it go, just as he had hers.

"It appears that I shall not be able to hide in my shadows any longer." Erik said, in way of reply, stifling his pride and affection as much as possible.

Carefully, Christine reached over and lifted the mask from the handsome face, exposing the affliction that barely raised a response within her anymore, to her it was just a patch of skin that made Erik unique, almost a gift that allowed him to questions things others would blindly follow. She had him to thank for opening her eyes to society's many flaws and how unjust it treated anyone remotely different, from the colour of their skin to the company they chose to keep. Her Erik had shown her so much, opened her eyes to a beautiful world of music others' could only dream of, and for that she considered herself honoured to be in his presence.

Erik had tensed at the mask being removed, but had not moved to stop her, knowing she must accept his appearance for their marriage to work, knowing they had to get past this one small hurdle before the larger ones could be overcome.

Carefully, she placed the mask on the bedside table, cautious not to smudge the delicate object. With a smile, she rested her cheek against the rough surface of his cheek, obscuring it completely from view to the angels that were surely looking down upon them.

"No, we shall hide in shadows together."

…………………..

YES :D D:D:D:D:D:D:D

It's finished (does a little dance). I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was nice to write. I can confirm their will be a one-shot for Valentine's day that completes Madame Giry's role, but I didn't want to distract from the plot with her story in this, as she only played a minor role she shouldn't have a predominant place in the epilogue.

Check out my other one-shot 'Fate' that will also be mentioned in Madame Giry's one :D It's a bit dark, but her we can't all have good days.

So, any comments? To abrupt? Just right? Please let me know.

Thanks again to everyone who has followed me with this. Your support has been amazing. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this and I am almost sad to see it go. Oh well, there are loads of stories I could write about POTO, so I may see some of you soon!

M.P.


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